What Dreams May Come
by missers
Summary: Evan Gryffin spent the last 15 years as an ordinary muggle trying to remember something about his past. Then someone from his past sees him. And recognizes him. James? James...P-p-potter? PreHBP
1. Dreamless Sleep

**Author's Note: 05.05.05**

**Chapter One - reposted. Original posting date: 07.30.04. **

**.What Dreams May Come.**

**Chapter One – Dreamless Sleep**

Harry shifted in his sleep uncomfortably. Sleeping had become something that he resented. For most, it was an escape from reality, but for him - it was hell.

He rolled over onto his side. His eyes fluttered as he fell into a disturbed sleep, his mind racing with images…

"_Lily! Take him upstairs! GO!" The man yelled._

"_James!" She screamed as their front door flew open. She tightened her grip on her crying child and ran up the stairs. She frantically looked for an escape, a hiding place- anything._

_As she tried to hush the innocent, crying life in her arms, she raced into the closest room. She heard yelling coming from downstairs. There was laughter and then yelling, but she couldn't make out the words._

_She huddled near the crib attempting to calm down her son. She wiped away the tears that had slowly started to fall._

"_You'll never win!" He yelled at the hooded man. _

_The man with the bottomless eyes cackled, "Oh, but Potter, I will. I _will_ win."_

"_I've defied you three times already, Voldemort, and I'm not ready to give up yet," the man hissed._

"_We'll see about that," the dark cloaked man whispered as he raised his wand and pointed it at the messy haired man. "_Avada Kadava!_"_

_But the man was quick and agile and raised his wand muttering something just in time. There was a loud banging noise. The house seemed to shake as the courageous man was thrown backwards. _

_He crashed into a table against the wall. The table shattered as the man's head hit the wall with such force he instantly bled. The last thing he saw was Voldemort's evil smile as he headed for the stairs._

"_No," the man weakly breathed before his eyes shut and he saw no more._

_Green. More green. It was all green. The flash. It was brilliantly bright. There was a scream, an earth-shattering scream that hurt Harry's ears. There was laughter and the house…it was falling. It fell all around him._

_And then the voice…the voice that sent shivers down Harry's spine._

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him…Born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal…But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…And either must die at the hand of the other…For neither can live while the other survives...The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_

_As the green started to twist and turn and the voice repeated itself over and over, blackness over came the picture. There was a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth over the house as a dark haired, petite woman pulled a man out of the ruble._

_She looked around apprehensively. The man was bleeding badly. She could barely feel a pulse. She'd never really noticed the house before, as often as she'd gone for late night walks through the strange neighborhood._

_She felt a chill. Something told her to get out. She had no place being there. _

_She pulled the man to his feet as he groggily moaned. She dragged him with her, him stumbling over his own feet the whole time._

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him…Born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal…But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…And either must die at the hand of the other…_

_There was a scream, a yell-_

Harry woke himself up with his screech. He sat up in bed, drenched in cold sweat. The green light and the voice. It was always the green light and the voice. When he remembered his dreams, anyway.

Harry threw his feet off the bed and ran a hand over his face and through his messy hair. He grabbed his glasses and shoved them on his face. He shivered, although not the slightest bit cold.

His gaze fell down to the nightstand next to his bed. He stared at the moving picture of his parents. They looked so happy. He picked up the book lying next to the photo. It was a book full of the moving pictures - pictures of his parents, him as a baby, his parents' friends, and Sirius.

The tear fell with no warning. Harry threw the book to the floor, the noise waking Hedwig from her jaded sleep.

Harry walked to the window and opened it. He stared out into the night sky. It was a full moon and he thought of Remus.

_Why didn't Remus ever find me before he taught at Hogwarts?_ Harry thought with anger in his veins. _Why did my dad have to hate Snape so much? Why couldn't I just swallow my pride and learn_ _occlumency?_ Harry berated his tired and guilt-ridden mind with questions he didn't have the answers for.

He yawned and glanced at his bed. It could not have looked more uninviting. He had no desire to crawl back in again and close his eyes. He wanted out of the house. He'd suffered enough anguish at the Dursley's. They didn't seem to care that he'd lost someone so special to him, the only person who'd ever truly shown him love besides his dead parents. They held no sympathy for him what so ever.

His hatred for them only grew. Aunt Petunia had seemed to offer a few sad looks his way once or twice. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't what he needed.

He sighed and looked at his desk upon which the letters from his friends - Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and even Luna and Neville - were.

His eyes suddenly felt droopy and he yawned again. Harry took one last glance at the night sky before begrudgingly crawling back into his bed. He took off his glasses and put his head to the pillow once more.

Just as he was closing his eyes, however, he shivered once again. He couldn't remember his dream, but it felt so real, and so…strange.

"_You look just like him, only with your mother's eyes…"_

Harry fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

He sat on the deck of his flat drinking a glass of milk. It was another one of those nights that he couldn't sleep. The past year or so had been full of them. Not that he liked to sleep much anyway; his dreams were swirls of red and green, laughter and tears, and he could never figure them out.

He figured they had something to do with his past life. The life he remembered nothing about. The life that he'd lost almost 15 years ago.

The man ran a hand through his messy, black hair before taking a sip of his milk. He chuckled, feeling his hair sticking up as usual. For the life of him, he could never get it to stay down. Even with all the hair gunk Tiffany made him buy, it was always just as stubborn.

He sighed and tilted his head back, looking at the clear night sky. He had no interest in astronomy and really knew nothing about it. But he always made a point of knowing the moon phase - tonight was a full moon - and for some odd reason…he could name the ten brightest stars in the sky.

"The sun doesn't count," he muttered out loud. "The brightest is Sirius, and then Canopus, Rigil Kentaurus, Arcturus, Vega, Capella, Rigel, Procyon, Achernar, and Betelgeuse. And somewhere after that is a star called Regulus."

All he could figure is that in his old life, he must have been an astronomer or a scientist or something. Something real smart, at least, to know all that. He'd often kept pets, mice and hamsters, even a cat for a while, and he always named them after a star.

Thinking of the stars he glanced into his flat to check on his current pet, a hamster named Phoenix. He'd been watching a documentary on cities in the United States and that name had popped out to him.

It was strange how things would suddenly pop out to him. He figured they were things from his old life, but he couldn't remember or place them if his life depended on it. Aside from his curious ability to name stars and moon phases, he wondered if he'd been big on animals. He enjoyed collecting wolf and stag memorabilia. And his dream was to own a dog. A big furry black one would be the only one that would do.

Did he have a dog before?

"Evan?"

The man looked below his balcony to see his best friend and neighbor looking back up at him.

"Hey, Tiff," Evan called down to her. "Just getting off work?"

The brunette yawned. "Yeah. Long night. I need a new job."

He laughed. "We both say that a lot, don't we?"

Tiffany smiled up to him. "Yeah. Two thirty-something year olds with no life ambitions. What are you doing up, Evan?"

He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep is all."

"Unlock your door, I'm coming over," she yelled at him and disappeared to enter the apartment building.

Evan drank the last of his milk and walked inside. He unlocked the chain on his door and went back to the kitchen. He was staring at the cupboards when Tiffany entered the apartment.

"Hungry?" She smiled at him, holding out microwave popcorn and some sodas.

Evan laughed. "Yeah, that'll work. What else did you bring over?"

"A couple movies. They always put you to sleep," she winked at him.

"What'd you bring?" He asked her as he took the popcorn and stuck it in the microwave. He got out a big bowl, two glasses and some ice for the soda.

"I have "Rosemary's Baby' and 'Dragonslayer'."

Evan rolled his eyes. "We just watched 'Rosemary's Baby' and I hate 'Dragonslayer."

Tiffany laughed as she moved a chess piece. The two had an on-going game of chess at all times. They hardly ever just sat and played, but every time Tiffany would be over she'd make a move and some time between, Evan would make his.

"Speaking of dragons," she smiled. "Check."

Evan sighed. "You aren't actually going to beat me this time. I'll see to that."

"Evan Gryffin- did you…_dust_ your flat?" Tiffany stood back and admired the chess set. It had been a Christmas present to him one year from her - the pieces were all in shapes of witches, wizards and dragons. It was something they both had a fascination with - magical things.

"I cleaned it up a bit, yeah. Do we have to watch one of these stupid movies? They're so corny, Tiff," Evan whined just as the microwave beeped.

"Mm, that popcorn smells good. Smells a lot better than all the drunks at the bar tonight. Fine, we don't have to watch a movie, but even if they are corny, _you_ love them too."

Evan poured the popcorn into the bowl and grabbed the sodas. The two walked out onto the deck and sat at the small table.

"It's a nice night," Evan commented, eating popcorn. He watched as Tiffany grabbed a handful of popcorn, shoved it in her mouth and then got a cigarette out.

"I thought you were going to quit," he motioned towards the unhealthy habit she was lighting.

"I will, I will. Anyway. It is a nice night. Full moon, huh? That explains a lot about tonight's crowd. Now why couldn't you sleep, darling? Did you have another strange dream?" Tiffany's face turned concerned as Evan seemed to lose himself in his own thoughts.

She watched his gray eyes through his glasses. They looked so…worn. It was the only word she could think of. He thought too much and she felt so bad for him. She'd done her best over the years to help him. She helped him search for his lost life, she'd helped him get on his feet, find a job, find a place to live. She'd been there when he would break down from the uncertainty, the lost feeling. She'd been there to laugh with him when he realized he could only move forward and that life _was_ magical. But through it all she couldn't give him one thing, the one thing he wanted the most: his memory of his past.

He'd slept for days after she'd pulled him from the rubble of the old house. The doctors hadn't been sure if he was going to come out of it. When he did come to, he couldn't remember anything. Not even his own name. Tiffany had come to calling him Charlie but he'd kept repeating 'Evan' and 'Gryffin' and 'hairy' when he'd be asked his name. With the strange spelling of 'Gryffin' it was accepted that Evan Gryffin must have been his name.

Tiffany had given the police the directions to the house where she'd found him. They found nothing. Not even a house.

When Evan had been released, she took him there. And the police had been right - there wasn't even a house. They'd roamed the neighborhood for hours but saw no one, nothing. Nothing that helped them figure anything out.

Evan became Tiffany's then. He had nowhere else to turn to. They became best friends and shared everything together.

Tiffany's worst fear was that Evan would remember his life and leave her; he was all she had. And she didn't think it would be easy to start over again when she was slowly approaching 40.

"I don't know, Tiff," Evan started. "The only thing I remember from this one is a flash of green light and a floating skull."

"Did it have the snake coming out of its mouth again?"

He shook his head. "Not this time, it was just a big skull. But there was sound in this dream. Whispers. 'And either must die at the hand of the other'. Over and over. It was bizarre and unsettling." Evan shuddered.

Tiffany took a long drag on her cigarette and pushed her dark curls behind her ears. "That is creepy, Evan. Look, it was just a dream, though. We've searched this city up and down for skulls with snakes and green items and we've come up with nothing."

Evan pushed his soda away from him. "I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, Tiffany. If you have other things to do, go and do them."

"Evan," Tiffany's look softened. "That's not what I'm saying. God, I've spent years, Evan, _years_, trying to help you. Do you think I'd just throw it all away because I was tired of it?"

"Well, I'm tired of it. I'm sick of wondering and thinking about it. I'm sick of it being in my mind. I'm sick of living in a past that I don't have."

"So stop," Tiffany took a deep breath.

Evan chuckled. "Easier said than done, love." His expression turned from amused to morose. "I just…I wish I knew who I was."

Tiffany reached across the table as a slight breeze blew. "I know who you are. You're my best friend. You're a sweet man who's caring and gentle and knows how to have a good time. You're hot for an old man, a real looker, but I get to be the one to curl up on the couch with you and watch movies."

Evan smiled. "Yeah…but, Tiff, it's all surface value. I don't know what things _mean_ to me. And I'm not hot."

Tiffany laughed. "You are. And you know what else- I bet you were popular. I bet girls swooned at your feet and you were smart and got good marks. I'll bet you played sports and you had a lot of friends. And you absolutely knew how to have a good time. I'll bet the room just lit up when you walked into it, just like it does now. And any enemies you had? Pure jealousy. That's the only reason they disliked you."

Evan laughed. "Why do you think I was so perfect? It's almost depressing to think if it was like that. And I just disappeared? If that was true, then why didn't anyone look for me? I really doubt it, Tiff. Besides, I'm a dork by today's standards. I'm too tall, my hair is messy, I have glasses, and I'm skinny."

Tiffany sighed and rolled her eyes. "You are the perfect height- women like a man who can protect her. You're hair, yes, it is a mess, but it makes you have this boyish look and it's really cute and sexy. The glasses - hot, Evan. Hot. It makes you look like an intellectual, which you _are_. And you aren't too skinny. You have muscles. You have abs. And be thankful you aren't fat."

"What, like you?" He teased her. Tiffany was hardly fat. Her petiteness made her look a bit on the round side, but hardly by any standards was she 'fat'.

She stuck her tongue out at him and then titled her head. "Look, I know it's depressing, Evan. And I will gladly sit up all night and talk you through it. But…it's been almost fifteen years, darling. We've searched everywhere we could think of, we've done everything we could imagine, and we still don't have answers. But you can't let that stop you from living _now_. You were given a second chance, Evan Gryffin. Take it and run with it. Be someone who you can look back in fifty years and be proud of."

There was a moment of silence while Evan thought about this before he sighed and looked to the sky once again. "Right. Look, I need to get to bed. And you should too. Don't you have a date tomorrow, for lunch?"

Tiffany groaned. "Yeah…I agreed to go out to lunch with that Malcolm guy downstairs. You know, that's what you need, Evan-"

"I'm not interested, Tiffany, don't start," Evan sighed again as he stood from the table. He grabbed the now empty bowl and the glasses and headed inside as Tiffany followed.

"Evan, a woman in your life, besides me, would do you good. I mean, even if it's just for some fun. Get you back into…"

"Into what, Tiffany? Back into what? I'm living my life, aren't I? I'm here, with you, I'm working and living. What else is there? At least for me? I can't date anyone. I have no desire. No one compares…"

"No one compares to whom?" Tiffany said in a small voice. He'd always get this far in the argument, but could never finish the sentence.

"Whoever it was that I was in love with, Tiffany. Who ever she was, she was perfect and I fought for her. I know that. I can feel it. And I couldn't pretend with someone else when I don't know if…if _she's_ still out there."

Tiffany swallowed and nodded her head. "I love you, darling. Just know that, okay? I'm going to bed. Try and get some sleep, alright?"

Evan nodded as Tiffany squeezed his hand and left his flat. He turned out all the lights behind her and locked the door. He remembered the deck was still open just as he was about to head to his bedroom.

He stopped and stared into the night sky one last time for the night. The full moon was bright and the stars were twinkling around it like a perfect painting.

He shivered, thinking it might not be as beautiful of a picture to all. It held mystery and horror, yet beauty and romance…

He locked the sliding door and headed for bed. He crawled in with a hefty sigh.

"Damn it," he said aloud, realizing he forgot to turn out the light. "Sometimes I wish there was a way to do things without getting up all the time."

He got up and turned out the light. He crawled back into bed and pulled the cover up tight around him after laying his glasses on the nightstand.

He closed his eyes and wished for dreamless sleep.

* * *

_**...huggles n cookies...**_

_**...missers... **_


	2. Encounters of the Strange Kind

Chapter Two – Encounters of the Strange Kind

Evan absent-mindedly ran a hand through his messy hair while he waited for the 'walk' sign to cross the street. Tiffany's birthday was the next day and he was out looking for something to buy for her. He had a few hours before he had to be at work, so he wasn't in a hurry.

The traffic stopped, the light turned to 'walk' and the crowd on the sidewalk crossed the street. Evan started to whistle a tune as he lazily made his way down the path. He glanced from window to window, admiring items in the storefronts but not seeing anything to make him stop.

"_Hey now, heeey now, don't dreaaam it's over_," Evan sang to himself as he stopped and looked into a window.

It was a shop that specialized in fantasy merchandise. The front window was littered with dragons and wizards of all kinds. He saw an incense burner in the shape of a dragon with a magical castle, an ashtray that had a fire-breathing dragon around the outside, a small statue of an old wizard with a long, white beard holding a crystal ball, and other little knick-knacks.

_This should be a good shop_, he thought and walked through the door. He smirked as the scents engulfed him upon entering. It was a familiar smell, but he couldn't place it. He took in a deep breath and started to browse the small store.

The shop, _Giselle's World of Magic_, was quite an interesting place full of unusual items. It had the typical 'fantasy world' objects and memorabilia, but it also seemed to have things that seemed so…useful in a world of magic.

There was a whole case of 'wands'. They were all different sizes and colors, each with a card that "explained" what the wand was made of. He laughed at the array of cauldrons near the back. Giselle also seemed to have just about any herb or special ingredient a 'spell' or 'potion' could call for.

_Course, I suppose some people do take 'magic' literally_, he shrugged.

The time passed by him quickly, and before he knew it, he'd been in the shop for almost an hour. There was something almost spellbinding about all the objects that he felt the need to investigate each piece thoroughly.

"G'day, sir. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, I didn't hear anyone come in," a short and pudgy woman came from the back suddenly. She had long hair that looked as if it had once been a creamy chocolate color, but now had more white than brown. She had a small nose and wore glasses. But Evan noticed that her warm, brown eyes still shown through.

"Oh, it's quite alright, I was just browsing," Evan smiled.

The shopkeeper nodded with a smile. "Let me know if you need any help." She turned to walk toward the counter but stopped and looked back at him. "You look familiar, you been in here before?"

Evan shook his head. "No, first time I've been here. It's unreal and interesting, though."

The woman looked him up and down. "Hmm, funny. I'm usually rather good with faces. Let me know if you need anything." She shrugged and continued her way to the front.

Evan went on browsing, realizing he had better make up his mind on a gift and start heading to work. After much debate, he finally chose a jewelry box that was engraved with dragons and a castle and played some magical sounding tune that he didn't recognize.

He was walking to the counter, glancing at some jewelry when something caught his eye and made him stop.

It was a broom.

And on the shelf next to it was a small golden ball. The ball looked dingy, beat up, and had what seemed to look like a wing on one side.

He stood and stared as the moments passed by him. A feeling of freedom and being alive took over him. He could imagine the wind blowing against his face as he raced through the air. Evan reached over and picked the small ball up. It was as light as a feather but gave him a rush to hold it in his hand, as if the one holding this special ball was important somehow.

Coming back to his senses, Evan chuckled quietly and put the ball back on the shelf. _Racing through the air_? He laughed. _People can't fly._

The sweet older woman kept staring at him, sure that she'd met him before as she rang him out. Evan assured her that he'd never shopped there before, but would definitely be back. She nodded, unsure still that they'd never met, but let him leave with a warm smile to his retreating back.

* * *

Harry had just changed into sleeping clothes and was getting ready for bed. He'd had a long day doing yard work and cleaning for the Dursley's. His Uncle Vernon seemed to think that unless he did more than his fair share, he wasn't paying them back for letting him stay with them.

Well, it wasn't as if he _wanted_ to stay with them. He'd much rather be anywhere else. As he thought of where he'd rather be, he frowned. Really, he couldn't think of a perfect place. There didn't seem to be one anymore. All of his favorite places were tainted now, with memories that he no longer wanted to remember.

He kicked the wall before leaning down on the windowpane. It was another clear night, the stars twinkling brightly. Harry sighed. All of his memories led him to one thought.

Either he had to kill Voldemort or be killed by him. It was his destiny and there didn't seem much like a way out of it. Sometimes he almost wished he'd never gotten the letters from Hogwarts accepting him into the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He sometimes wished Vernon and Petunia had been able to keep the secret of him being a wizard from him. Maybe if he hadn't known about any of it, he wouldn't know the feeling of happiness and thus, not be so miserable now.

He heard the flutter of wings and saw his owl heading for the widow. Hedwig gave a small hoot as she landed in front of him and he stroked her head. She nibbled at his fingers affectionately and stuck her leg out for Harry to notice the note tied to it.

"Where've you been, Hedwig?" Harry asked her as he untied the parchment and found some snacks for the snowy white bird. Hedwig ate the food and flew into her cage, readying herself for sleep after her flight.

Harry unrolled the paper and sighed, taking a seat at his desk. It was from Remus.

_Harry,_

_Just wanted to check on you and see how things were going. We hadn't heard from you yet this week and Mad-Eye was starting to get worked up. Are they treating you okay? I know, Harry, that you don't want to be there. But just a little while longer and I'm sure Dumbledore will give you the okay to be with your friends again. _

_Hedwig must have known that I was thinking about you. She just showed up a little while ago, but had nothing to give me. She's a faithful owl, and smart._

_I've also enclosed something I thought you might enjoy having. It's a picture from my own collection. It's always been one of my favorites. It's of Sirius, your dad and your mum. A good friend took it on our last day at Hogwarts. James and Sirius had just gotten in trouble with Lily for hexing Snape one last time. She was smiling the whole time she was yelling at them, though. The picture has often reminded me of what fun-loving people James and Sirius were, and how Lily was the one to balance them out._

_Hang in there, Harry. I'll talk to you soon._

_Remus_

Harry gulped and picked up the picture. It was taken outside, near the lake. It was a sunny day. Harry could make out other students in the background, laughing and hugging.

Sirius and James both had smug looks on their faces and laughter in their eyes. It was obvious they were trying not to smile as they lowered their heads in mock shame, sneaking glances at one another from time to time. Lily stood beside them, her mouth moving a mile a minute as she shook her finger in front of them. Harry could see that she held two wands in her other hand -- no doubt Sirius and his dad's.

Harry set the picture against the frame holding the picture of his mum and dad. He had a lump in the back of his throat suddenly. He got out his own piece of parchment and ink to write Remus back.

_Remus,_

_I'm doing as well as I always am, being stuck here. They're treating me just like normal, nothing out of the ordinary. It doesn't matter, though - I'm fine._

_Thank you for the picture. If it's one of your favorites, you don't have to give it to me. I know they meant something to you, as well._

_Take care of Hedwig while you have her. She is smart and very loyal. I have to go. I'm supposed to be in bed._

_Harry_

Short and to the point, he thought as he rolled it up and walked to Hedwig's cage. She nipped at his hand as he tied it to her leg.

"You can stay with Remus for a while, Hedwig, just get this to him for me," Harry told her. He patted her on the head once more and gave her another treat before she took off out the window.

Harry watched her form disappear into the night sky and crawled into his bed.

* * *

The day was overcast, but it didn't stop Evan and Tiffany from enjoying their day off. It was rare for both of them to be off on the same day, as they both worked at the same bar. Roger, the owner, seemed to think that Tiffany was his best server and Evan was his best bartender, meaning he needed one of them working each night to keep things running smoothly.

They climbed their way up out of the tunnel from the Underground Tube Station and squinted. Even with no sun shining, it was still bright compared to being underground.

"So where's this great shop at?" Tiffany asked, excited to see it.

"'Round the corner and across the street," Evan explained as they walked along. "It's a really neat shop, Tiff. I was in there for over an hour."

Tiffany laughed at him. "So you said. I love that jewelry box. I can't wait to see what else this place has."

"Everything you can imagine," Evan smiled.

"Here it is," Evan announced as he slowed down in front of the small store. He watched as Tiffany investigated the objects in the window before he quickly became entranced himself.

They made their way inside, Evan taking in the aroma once again. He smiled at Tiffany who had an excited and mesmerized expression on her face. Just as Evan had done the week before, Tiffany immediately lost sense of the real world and became engrossed at the things in front of her.

They both silently looked about the store, only speaking when either found something they thought amazing or funny. Once again, Evan didn't see anyone working in the shop and assumed the quaint woman was in the back.

"Evan, look at this," Tiffany waved him over. She'd found a knee-high statue of a wizard with a long white beard and sparkling eyes. The statue made the wizard seem old, yet youthful and energetic.

Evan stared at it a moment. "Wonder if it's anyone specifically."

"Like who, Merlin?" Tiffany cackled.

"Actually, it's a statue of one of the greatest wizards to have ever lived," came a voice behind them. Evan recognized her immediately - the proprietor from the week before. "Albus Dumbledore."

Tiffany shrugged. "Never heard of him. What made him so 'great'?"

The plump woman smiled. "Ah, so many things. Not enough time, I imagine, to tell you the whole story and no sense in starting something we can't finish, now is there?"

Tiffany smiled and rose her eyebrows to Evan. Evan hardly noticed; he was still gazing at the statue.

"Dumbledore, you said?" Evan asked the woman.

She tilted her head and looked Evan up and down again. "That's his name. You were in here last week. You still look familiar to me."

Evan smiled at her. "Well, at least now you can place me to something, aye? I didn't see this last week."

"Just got it in the other day," the woman explained, still staring at Evan. "The name is Giselle. Again, let me know if you need anything."

Giselle walked toward the back of the store, leaving Evan and Tiffany to browse more.

"Evan, are you alright? You look a bit pale suddenly," Tiffany gave him a worried look.

"I'm fine," Evan smiled weakly at her. "Keep looking around. You have birthday money to spend."

Tiffany laughed. "I should be using my bonus to pay some bills. But you're right, this place is simply amazing. I could spend my whole paycheck in here."

Tiffany wandered around to another aisle, leaving Evan with the statue of the Dumbledore fellow. Evan sighed and ran a hand through his hair before continuing.

A little while later, after much more admiring, the two heard Giselle enter the storefront again. She smiled at them as she carried a tray with a tea kettle and crumpets on it.

"About to 'ave some company," she smiled at them. "My dear cousin is coming from out of town to visit. Care for a cup of tea and some crumpets while you shop?"

"Oh no, that's quite alright," Tiffany smiled. "Thank you for the offer, though. We should be on our way then. We wouldn't want to impose on you."

"You young'ns are fine," Giselle shook her head. "Take your time. You won't bother my cousin at all. She finds coming here a bit fascinating. She doesn't…leave home too often."

Tiffany smiled and glanced at Evan. "All the same, are you about ready?"

Evan nodded, "Yeah, just about."

Evan had one more aisle to look down. Giselle must have changed the store around a bit since the week before; she'd added new merchandise and he noticed some things gone.

He happily strolled down the aisle, taking in the odd products.

His heart skipped a beat again when he came to the broom and the golden ball. He reached out and ran a finger down the broom handle, getting a chill down his spine. The same feeling of freedom and being alive struck him.

Tiffany rounded the corner and chuckled. "A broom? Oh my. This lady takes the stories of witches straight to heart, doesn't she? What's the ball?"

Evan didn't even smile as he answered, his eyes never leaving the shelf. "I think it's part of a game or something."

Tiffany gave him a strange look. "A game? You mean like witches tossed a ball back and forth while riding their broomsticks?" She passed him an amused smile and winked at him. "Come on, I'm hungry, it's way past lunch."

Evan pulled his hand away from the broom and followed Tiffany towards the door. They both gave an appreciative smile towards Giselle and bid her a good day. Once outside, Tiffany took a deep breath.

"Ah, fresh air," she sighed. "I must be getting old, those incense were giving me a headache. I used to burn them all the time back when I was a teenager. Now, where to for lunch?"

"Um, isn't there a little place down this way?" Evan asked, pointing in a direction and taking a step to walk.

"No! Let's go this way," Tiffany grabbed his hand and pulled him the other way. "We can stop at that music store on the way."

The two started to walk, each taking one last look in the window of _Giselle's World of Magic_.

"James? James…P-p-potter?"

The hair on the back of Evan's neck stood straight up and a chill went down his spine. He stopped walking and stood, frozen in his step.

"It can't be," a voice, barely louder than a whisper, said from behind him.

Tiffany noticed Evan had stopped walking and turned back to look at him. "Evan? What's wrong?"

Evan swallowed hard and turned to face the voice that'd said the name.

She was a curvy sort of woman, with rosy cheeks and a pretty face. She looked older than him, but was managing to age quite well. Her long dark, blond hair was pulled up with just a few rings falling around her face. She wore an expression of shock and disbelief as Evan watched her face grow white.

"E-excuse me?" Evan stammered out. This woman looked so familiar to him.

"It…it _can't_ be you…" she breathed. "You…but he…and Lily…"

Evan was confused as he looked intently at the woman. The color seemed to still be draining from her face.

"I'm sorry- who did you say?" Tiffany looked at the woman, curious as to why she was having a hard time believing Evan to be who she thought.

The woman put a hand to her forehead. "James…"

Evan shook his head. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" His heart was thumping in his throat and his stomach felt twisted.

"I…is it you? I-I…" the woman didn't seem to be able to make complete sentences.

Just then, Giselle walked out of her shop with a huge smile on her face, obviously happy to see her cousin.

"Rosmerta! You made it!" Giselle's smiled faded as she saw the state of shock her cousin was in. "Rosmerta?"

The woman called Rosmerta turned her face towards Giselle, but not her eyes. Her eyes remained locked on Evan. "Giselle…he looks…just…like…"

Giselle looked to Evan and Tiffany again and pursed her lips. "I've been saying he looks familiar. Who does he look like, Rose?"

"Yeah, who does he look like?" Tiffany questioned, her own heart thumping out of control. Did these women know who Evan was? Were they from his past?

"James Potter," Rosmerta said certainly. "I'd never forget his face. Harry looks just like him."

Giselle threw a hand over her dropped jaw quicker than Evan could take in what Rosmerta had just said.

"Well, by Merlin! Potter, you said?"

Evan just stood there, feeling dumbfounded. Tiffany swallowed and held back confused tears.

"I'm sorry, you say that I look just like someone you know?" Evan managed to sound like a dignified adult.

"You…aren't you…" Rosmerta stammered again. "I mean, what's your name?"

Evan glanced at a paling Tiffany for support. Who were these people? He looked back at them, both still with shocked expressions.

"Evan Gryffin, ma'm."

Giselle nodded and took her hand away from her mouth. "Well, see there, Rose, he must be one of those twins they say everyone has out there."

Rosmerta nodded, but didn't look satisfied. She seemed to be looking deep into Evan's eyes, deeper than a stranger normally would.

"I don't mean to pry, but…why do you looked so shocked to think that you're seeing this…P-potter fellow?" Evan asked, hesitating at the name for some odd reason.

"Because James Potter died almost fifteen years ago," Rosmerta said.

* * *

**_...huggles n cookies..._**

**_...missers... _**


	3. Connections

**Chapter Three – Connections**

Evan's stomach twisted and lurched, feeling as though it were falling out. His face paled and his eyes widened. He stared at Rosmerta, letting her words sink in. His mouth went dry and he found that he had to concentrate in order to swallow.

Tiffany watched as Evan stood frozen, eyes gaping at these women. She saw his Adam's apple bob as he forced a swallow and licked his lips. She looked to Rosmerta who was still staring intently at Evan.

"You said…_fifteen_ years ago?" Tiffany suddenly felt light headed and put her hand out to the building to hold her self up.

Rosmerta nodded her head slowly. "Fifteen this Halloween."

Evan felt dizzy. The swirls of red and green from his dreams began dancing around him. _Fifteen years…Halloween…_ Evan felt like his stomach was rising to his throat.

"Perhaps it would be best if we all went inside the shop?" Giselle suggested, noticing the stunned looks Evan and Tiffany had.

Rosmerta nodded again. "Yes. Get them something to drink, Elle."

Giselle reached out, grabbed Tiffany's hand, and pulled her towards the shop door. Tiffany took a few steps forward until she reached Evan, who stood silent and abysmal. She put her hand on his lower back and gently gave him a push towards the door.

"Come on, baby," she whispered in his ear.

It didn't seem as though he heard her, he gave her no acknowledgement, but he did as instructed and somehow seemed to glide back into the shop. Giselle and Rosmerta lagged behind a bit, exchanging astonished looks.

"Rose, do you really think? I mean, everyone knows the story. The story of when Harry Potter fought You-Know-Who. I mean…James and Lily Potter _died_," Giselle whispered to her cousin.

Rosmerta nodded. "But they never found James's body, Elle. And I'd know him anywhere. As often as him and his friends would come into the Three Broomsticks…and Harry? Giselle, Harry looks _just_ like James. It's unmistakable."

Giselle looked into the shop where Tiffany was sitting Evan down on a stool and pouring him some tea. "Well, he does seem to be in state of shock, as if it's actually possible."

Rosmerta shook her head, blinking her eyes. "I just…Merlin. Come on, we have a lot to talk about with them."

"It fits, Tiff, it fits," Evan finally managed to sputter out as she handed him a cup of tea.

Tiffany nodded, biting on her lower lip. "I know, Evan. But…we don't know anything for sure yet."

"She recognizes me, Tiffany," Evan argued. "And the timing…the time that's passed…when I _died_."

Tiffany blinked back a few tears as the two older women entered the shop. Giselle locked the door and turned her 'open' sign around to say 'closed'. Rosmerta stood awkwardly towards Evan's left while Giselle sauntered right over, poured three more cups of tea and passed them out.

"Now, let's all sit down," Giselle commanded.

Tiffany jumped when she looked behind her and noticed a chair for her as well. She didn't remember it being there when they walked in moments before. Rosmerta was now sitting, as well as Giselle too. Giselle was also pulling over a table to place between the four that Tiffany hadn't noticed sitting in the corner.

_Was it sitting in the corner?_ Tiffany shook her head and looked back to Evan, worried about the state of shock he seemed to be in. Was this the day that he'd been looking for all these years? The day that Tiffany would never admit to him that she had dreaded?

"Died?" Evan's voice was quiet and hoarse. He looked directly at Rosmerta who sipped her tea.

"Y-yes." Her glance lingered a moment before she put her tea cup down on its saucer. "May I ask what happened to you…Evan?" Her mouth felt dry as she said this name. "That makes you think I might be telling you the truth?"

Evan took a deep breath letting his head fall back, his face towards the ceiling, as he closed his eyes. He gave Tiffany a small smile before looking back to Rosmerta and beginning his tale.

"Fifteen years ago on Halloween night, Tiffany was out for a late night walk. She was walking through a strange neighborhood, one she didn't venture into very often when she came across a house that seemed to have been…knocked down. She heard a moan, which was made by me. I was floating in and out of consciousness, barely breathing the whole time. I was bleeding and had broken bones. She dug me out and took me to the hospital. I was in a coma for almost two weeks. The police couldn't find anything on Tiffany's story. Not the house, nothing on a missing person with my description- nothing. Tiffany stayed by my side the whole time. When I awoke, she told me all that she knew. I couldn't remember anything. Nothing. I didn't even know my name, my birthday, the year- I couldn't even say who the queen was. Tiffany helped me through my healing period and when I was released, she went on a search with me to find…me. We found nothing… And here we are." Evan finished slowly and paused a moment. "W-what…I mean…who was…?"

Rosmerta and Giselle looked at one another, faces expressionless. Evan felt nervous, scared, confused. He kept glancing back and forth between Tiffany and the two ladies, his stomach still in a knot, a lump in his throat.

Rosmerta swallowed. "Well, your story matches with James Potter. The night, Halloween, fifteen years ago…it was late at night…his house…it crumbled. No one ever found his body. Never saw him again - nothing."

"What was the name of the neighborhood?" Tiffany asked, her voice cracking.

Rosmerta scrunched her nose as she thought. "Oh dear me…what was it, Elle?"

"Oh, named after Gryffindor, wasn't it? Something to do with the Potter's lineage, rumor had it," Giselle put a finger to her mouth as she strained to think.

"Did you say Gryffindor?" Evan asked, eyes squinting behind his black-rimmed glasses.

"Godric Gryffindor…" Rosmerta was still in thought. "Godric's Hollow! That's it! That was the name of it!"

Tiffany reached out a hand and grasped Evan's shoulder as his face went paler than it already was.

"Godric's Hollow was the name of the street…" Evan said in a tone that was barely audible.

"Yes," Rosmerta nodded her head. "I always thought it was strange for muggles to have accepted our name for that place, even though they hardly realize the neighborhood is even there."

"Muggles?" Tiffany gave Rosmerta a strange look.

Rosmerta looked at Giselle before nodding. "Non-magic folk."

Evan was still too much in a state of shock to be paying attention to the chatter. He was still registering the connections. Tiffany, however, was feeling a bit confused.

"I'm sorry," she shook her head and blinked. "I thought you just said non-magic folk."

Rosmerta licked her lips. "I did." She looked at Evan with the most serious look. "James Potter, you are a wizard."

* * *

Erica Welling took a deep breath of the evening air as she walked out of the ministry. The sun was beginning its decent in the west, giving the old buildings in the city an odd glow that got her heart racing.

She loved the city. She smiled as she stood on the sidewalk a moment, taking in the scenery. People of all kinds were briskly walking this way and that, hurrying to get home or to meet someone for dinner. Cars honked as traffic was stop and go, taxi's trying to be the first to be flagged down and double-decker busses looking as if they'd topple over as they took the turns.

With another sigh, Erica started walking down the street herself. It was a long walk, quite a few city blocks before she'd reach the Leaky Cauldron, but the fresh air would do her good as she thought of the referral she'd been given that day.

Erica was most likely the best witch-psychiatrist in Britain. She'd been featured in many articles throughout the country as well as other countries. She often traveled, her work taking her to America, France, Spain…many countries. The cases she saw, the witches and wizards she worked with, came from one spectrum to another. There was hardly anything left out there she hadn't seen.

But this case- this was one she wasn't sure if even _she_ wanted to risk taking on. Her office was in St. Mungo's with many of her clients being referred to her through both St. Mungo's and the Ministry.

This referral, however, came from someone that Erica respected more than the Minister himself: Albus Dumbledore.

And her old Headmaster wanted her to take on none other than the boy-who-had-lived - Harry Potter.

If she wanted to claim anything, such as that vain, over-achiever, Gildroy Lockhart, this could be a case that would, once and for all, make Erica a renowned psychiatrist. But her job meant more to her than fame and fortune; the reason she became a doctor of psychiatry was to help people, and that was what she enjoyed the most.

But Harry Potter was something different. From the way that Albus had talked to her, she didn't think Harry knew anything about the proposed idea. All _she_ really knew, aside from who he was like everyone else, was that he'd defied the Dark Lord numerous times, been through hell and back, and life wasn't looking too bright in the near future for him.

Not that this would normally shy Erica away from taking on a client. She'd worked with witches and wizards who'd gone through torments of their own, who had reoccurring nightmares from the last war, who had once _been_ on the dark side…but they were all of-age wizards. Harry was still a kid.

And Erica wasn't so sure she wanted to be the one in charge of clearing his mind.

Then again, she thought, as her feet led her the way through the streets of London, Harry Potter was the son of one of the greatest couples Erica had ever had the chance to know. Well, she hadn't known them well, but she knew of them, and they of her. She'd even talked with Lily a few times back in Hogwarts where Erica had just been a couple years behind them.

Thinking back to her days in school brought the genuine smile back to her face. Her and her friends had giggled their way through the Gryffindor Common room, the Great Hall and Quidditch games, watching the infamous Marauders pull pranks and goof off. All four of them had been idols to Erica and her friends - they were good looking, talented, funny and entertaining.

Erica could remember being in awe of Lily and her friends, too. Lily Evans had been so beautiful, intelligent and kind. Not to mention the object of one particular Marauder's affections for so long. Erica could still remember the day that Lily had finally succumbed to James, the happiness and laughter reading in their eyes.

As Erica stopped to buy a London Evening Standard paper, she thought of life after Hogwarts. She remembered the war raging, the nervousness in the air. After Erica graduated, she went straight to a muggle university to study more about psychology- something many wizards frowned upon at the time. She divided her time between University and studying at St. Mungo's, watching the Daily Prophet for the inevitable news of who had died and who had been found to have crossed over.

She remembered hearing the stories of the battles, the rumors of those brave souls fighting with every ounce in them to beat Voldemort. She remembered hearing of the Potter's struggle…and of course, the night Harry beat the Dark Lord.

Erica was torn in celebrating and mourning. Soon enough, with her studies over and her practice booming, Erica pushed the sad emotions away, the feelings of betrayal from those she'd once admired, and focused on her growing talent.

Her work became her life; helping others was what made her smile, made her laugh and feel accomplished. Always pushing her own feelings away, Erica quickly managed to gain a suitable reputation for herself, and most of the Wizarding community became accepting of her ways.

Her half muggle-half wizard ways, that is. Erica was a half blood and proud of it. She was surprised, honestly, that she hadn't been more active in the war, or that she'd survived with only bearing witness of the tragedies through the eyes of others. But she had, and she thanked Merlin everyday by helping those who _had_ seen with their own eyes.

Erica was finally at the Muggle entrance to the Leaky Cauldron and walked in. The place was busy, people eating, talking, and drinking at the bar. She scanned the room for her best friend and found her at a table reading her own paper.

She joined her friend and planned for a night of relaxation. She didn't need to think anymore.

Of course she'd take Harry Potter on as a client.

* * *

"Get some water, Giselle!" Rosmerta and Tiffany were both patting Evan on his back as he coughed. Tiffany thought she had never seen a person as white as her friend sitting before her.

Tiffany looked at Rosmerta. "A wizard? Seriously? What kind of sick joke is this? Who are you people? Do you think, even for a moment, that _any_ of this is actually funny?"

Evan took the glass of water from Giselle and put his hand out to stop Tiffany.

Rosmerta looked aghast. "You think I'm making this up? Do you know how it feels to see a ghost from the past? To see someone…someone that was so special whom you've thought _dead_ for fifteen years is walking around as alive as a hippogriff? To know that everyone he's been missing for the past fifteen years needs him more now than ever?"

"A _wizard_?" Tiffany boomed. "A hippo whatever you said? You people are _freaks_! You talk as if-"

"Don't call them freaks," Evan suddenly demanded of Tiffany. "Just…don't call them…freaks."

Tiffany stopped and looked at Evan speechless. "Don't tell me that you're buying into this, Evan? They just…they're playing a sick and twisted joke on you. For some reason, some_how_ they found out about you and they're playing with you."

Evan stood up, still pale as a ghost and shaking. "Is there a way that I can contact you…I mean, after I've thought this over some? A telephone number?"

"I don't have a phone," Giselle explained. "There are some Wizard things I still prefer, like Owl post."

Tiffany chuckled from behind Evan and mumbled. "Owl post? The next thing you know, we'll be fighting dragons."

Rosmerta looked at Tiffany. "There are no wild dragons in Britain, and it's against Ministry law to own one without special licenses."

"Oh, please," Tiffany glared at her.

"Tiffany," Evan looked at her. "I need some time to think about this…a wizard? I just…and my name…it's all so…"

Rosmerta nodded her head in an understanding way. "Take your time, Love. It's hard to swallow for us too…we'll find you…in a couple of days."

Evan nodded. "Did I know you?"

Rosmerta slowly smiled, a little color coming back to her face. "Yes, you did. You did."

Evan nodded before heading for the doorway. He stopped and looked at the woman and gave her a slight smile before leaving.

A few moments after, Tiffany ran up and grabbed Evan by the hand to turn him around.

"What are you doing?" She exclaimed.

"What do you mean, what am I doing? I'm going back home. To think. To digest all of this. To be alone."

"Evan! Are you seriously telling me that you _believe_ what those two frauds were feeding you back there? They're twisted freaks, Evan, playing some horrible-"

"I Said To Not Call Them Freaks," Evan stared angrily at her.

"What is the big deal?" Tiffany exasperated. "Evan, what they are trying to do is cruel! Trying to convince you that you're a _wizard, _for God's sake! A wizard, Evan, a wizard! They don't _exist_."

Evan looked down the street before speaking quietly. "How do you know? What if they do?"

"You're being for real?" Tiffany chuckled in lack of reacting any other way.

He looked at her. His best friend for the past fifteen years. The person that had given him life, something to live for, something that gave him reason to keep going. As hard as this was for him, as hard as it was to take in, to even _consider_, likewise for her, she had to be tearing up inside.

"Tiffany," Evan sighed. "I don't know what to believe right now. I know, a wizard is off the wall…I don't know. But she recognized me. She called me by a name, Tiff! She _knew_ me. Which means…she knows about me. She knows my life…before…" He cut himself off and swallowed. "I don't think that she was playing a joke on me, Tiff. I really don't. Her face…the look in her eyes…something is telling me to believe her. Just…"

He sighed and looked off into the sky, taking it all in for a moment. It was all too much. But for some reason, things seemed to make sense to him.

"I need to go home, Tiff. I need to think and be alone," Evan told her.

Tiffany nodded and let him go. She watched him as he walked along the street, wondering if this was the beginning of the end of life as she knew it.

* * *

He couldn't think the whole way back to his flat. He walked with a void in his mind, his feet automatically knowing the way home. He locked his door and closed all the curtains, allowing no light into the apartment.

He sat at his computer desk and turned on the PC. He didn't know what he was going to look up or what exactly he wanted to be doing. He stared at the search engine page letting minutes past before he finally figured out something to search for.

He typed in the name that the woman had called him, 'James Potter', just to see if anything would come up.

He closed his eyes before looking at the results.

Sixty-four matches came back; three of them containing the actual name 'James Potter'. He clicked on the first link and held his breath.

'Samuel James Potter – Leading the cyber world to tomorrow' read the web page that came up. Evan browsed through the page to find that this Sam Potter was alive and well, living in California, USA, and teaching classes on the usage of the Internet.

Obviously not the 'missing' James Potter of the last fifteen years.

Evan went back to the results page and clicked on the second link. Again, he held his breath before looking at the page that came up.

'James- Pottery and Ceramics' was what he read on this page. It was a guy, first name James, last name not given, who made pottery and ceramics and sold them via the Internet.

_Another dead end_, Evan thought. He spent the next hour staring at the computer screen looking up things Rosmerta or Giselle had mentioned. Two things had a match that fit the story when he looked them up.

When he had tried 'Dumbledore' a page came up with a picture that looked very similar to the statue at Giselle's shop. All the page said was, _'Albus Dumbledore: Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards'._

_Someone else knows of this 'wizard'_, Evan thought.

The second item that came up with a match was a website about _Giselle's World of Magic_. The site described the shop and items sold as 'authentic magical items'. There were pictures of some of the more common items sold there, with stories and explanations about them.

Evan, eyes wide open and mind fully awake, read with such a curiosity that he didn't even notice the time slip away.

_Authentic Wands. Each wizard or witch's wand comes with a tag detailing the parts used to make it. A wand, the wizard or witches most valuable possession, allows the wizard or witch to perform the multitude of spells and incantations. Each wand is made differently, not one is the same, and the wand, when the wizard or witch reaches the correct age allowed by law, picks the person._

_Authentic Cauldrons. Cauldrons come in all shapes, sizes and textures these days. The variety desired is directed by the use. Most wizards and witches own an extensive array of cauldrons today. A cauldron's typical use is to mix spells and potions._

_Herbs and Potions. Many ingredients are easy to find around an everyday house, and many wizards/witches tend to grow their own. However, there are plenty of hard to find, dangerous, or rare ingredients that are needed occasionally or often. Some of these, as well as common ones, can be found here._

Evan stopped reading and sat back. Wands. His eyes glazed over as he went into a daydream.

He saw a short, scrawny boy around the age of eleven. He had messy jet-black hair and round glasses on his narrow face. His hazel eyes lit up as he followed the dark haired woman into the shop.

The small boy looked around the room; boxes lined the walls up and down. An energetic older man popped up from behind the counter with a smile that made the already excited boy even more eager.

"Is it already time for you to get your wand, Mr. Potter?" The man winked.

The boy nodded his head vigorously, eyes wide with anticipation. "Yes, sir, Mr. Ollivander."

Mr. Ollivander smiled again and ran off in search for the perfect wand.

It took the boy many tries with quite a few wands before finding the perfect one. But when he did find it and James flicked his wrist, magical streams of light - dark red and gold - beamed from the tip.

"A true Potter to the heart, Serendipity, a true Potter," Mr. Ollivander grinned.

"I think so, too," the dark haired woman nodded, smiling proudly at the boy. She handed Mr. Ollivander some funny looking coins and walked the boy out of the shop.

Evan shook his head bringing his thoughts crashing back to the present.

"Serendipity? Ollivander…red and gold sparks…Ollivander's Wand Shop," Evan whispered out loud. "Selling wands since 382 BC."

Evan swallowed hard. He stood up and walked out onto his deck. He leaned against the door and slowly fell to the floor.

"Serendipity Potter was my mother. She had dark beautiful curly hair and the biggest blue eyes I've ever seen."

Evan ran a hand through his own hair, leaving his hand to his head to hold it up. He felt clammy and nauseous.

He'd just remembered his mother taking him to buy his wand. His first wand, his only wand. His wand that he had bought when he was eleven years old and had been accepted into school. A school for wizards and witches.

Evan Gryffin made a realization as he sat on the floor of his deck.

He'd just had a memory. A memory of the life he'd struggled to recapture for the past fifteen years.

Evan Gryffin _was_ James Potter.

* * *

**_...huggles n cookies..._**

**_...missers... _**


	4. Sixteen Candles

**Chapter Four – Sixteen Candles**

Harry's eyes suddenly opened. He looked towards the window to see that it was morning and the sun was shining. He reached over, grabbed his glasses, and put them on as he sat up in bed, now fully awake.

Today was his birthday. His sixteenth birthday, at that. His _last_ birthday for all he knew.

Harry sighed and climbed out of bed. It was still early according to the clock on his nightstand. None of the Dursely's would be up yet.

_Just as well_, he thought. At least he'd get to start his day alone. The least amount of human contact, the better his day went.

Harry dressed and headed downstairs to find something quick for breakfast before he'd have to make the meal for the other three. He grabbed some biscuits from the counter and strolled outside.

It was a warm day already, not a cloud in the sky. Harry wandered down the street to the park and sat in one of the swings. This was his morning ritual. His few minutes away from everyone, a few minutes to think.

Not that he really _wanted_ to think, but his mind seemed to manage it anyway.

This morning, as Harry munched on his breakfast, his thoughts drifted to Sirius. He wondered what his godfather would have done for him on his birthday. He wondered if he'd be with him…what could have been if not for that night in the Ministry.

Harry held back the tears and kicked at the dirt under the swing. He thought of what Sirius's sixteenth birthday might have been like. What the rest of the Marauder's had done to celebrate with him.

Harry then thought of his dad. What had his dad done on his sixteenth birthday? What would he have done if _he_ were still alive? And his mum?

All these questions and no answers. Of course, it was always like that. It had always been like that for Harry James Potter.

He sat in the swing a little while longer before heading back to No. 4 Pivet Drive to start his day. He made it just in time to start breakfast.

Breakfast went on as usual, no one bothering to acknowledge Harry's birthday. Once everyone was done eating, Harry cleared the table and set off to start his chores. Dudley disappeared, as usual, taking off outside while Uncle Vernon headed off to work.

Harry was alone in the kitchen, wrapping up dishes when his Aunt Petunia approached him, slowly and shyly.

"Harry," she started in a small and weak voice.

Harry looked up to her absentmindedly. "Yes, Ma'm?"

Petunia cleared her throat. "I…um, I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday."

Harry just stood there, speechless. Had he just heard right? His aunt had just told him happy birthday?

"Also…" Petunia bit her lip as she reached down into her apron pocket and pulled something out. She briefly closed her eyes, opening them wide again before looking back at Harry. "I thought that you might like…I thought that you might want this."

Petunia held out her hand to Harry. Disbelieving that he was really awake, Harry slowly put his hand out, not wanting to actually try and touch his aunt's hand.

Petunia dropped the gold object in his palm and nodded her head. "It was my father's pocket watch. His father's before him…I, um…well, when Vernon and I had gotten married he gave it to me, wanted me to keep it safe for his first born grandson."

Harry glanced at the antique looking pocket watch. The hands were set to the correct time and it looked polished and well taken care of. Harry couldn't help but notice the feel of the cold metal on the palm of his hand. The chain hung down, rocking back and forth like a pendulum.

"I know that Dudley is older than you, Harry, but I don't think he'd take care of it…appreciate it like you would…I…I…" Petunia began stuttering, making Harry look up to her, look into her dull blue eyes, her dull blue eyes that looked frightened.

"Why are you scared of me? Why do you let me stay here? What is it that Dumbledore was talking about in that Howler?" Harry suddenly asked.

Suddenly, the fright disappeared and Petunia stepped back. Her palms grew clammy. She smacked her lips together. "You better finish those dishes." And she walked out of the kitchen.

Harry didn't move. He was frozen, staring at his palm and the golden watch laying on it. He admired the beauty of it, his grandfather's watch. The time ticked away, leaving Harry to watch it go.

* * *

Rosmerta paced impatiently up and down behind the bar. Her head hung low as her thoughts drifted. If he didn't hurry, she'd have to open soon, and she wouldn't be able to talk.

"Damn old man," she said out loud, looking to the door of The Three Broomsticks. "I sent him the owl an hour ago."

Rosmerta stopped pacing and looked at the leather bound book she had laying on the counter top. The moment she'd returned home the night before she had dug the book out - just to see. Just to ease her mind of what she already knew.

She flipped through the pages. Through out the whole book, old patrons waved and smiled at her in the moving pictures. Old witches and wizards not alive anymore, some older and less often a visitor, some still regulars, and some - she never knew what had happened to them.

For the hundredth time, she stopped at the picture taken almost twenty years ago. Four young blokes were smiling, laughing and blowing kisses at her. She studied the picture before flipping to the back of the book and found a recent one - one of a few Hogwarts students enjoying a butterbeer a couple years ago.

They were practically identical - the two with the same messy, black hair, the wire-framed glasses, and the look of mischief. They had the same build, the same height.

Rosmerta was positive that she'd know a Potter anywhere.

The bells rang over the door as an old man with a long grey beard walked into the bar. His blue eyes twinkled as he smiled at the bar-maiden.

"Rosmerta, m'dear, you look lovely this fine summer morning."

She smiled back at him with her own twinkle. "It's about time you got here. Getting slow for an old man."

"Ah, slow is but the speed at which you compare it to," the wizard nodded.

"You're as full of shite as ever, Albus," Rosmerta laughed. "Can I get you a drink?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Dumbledore politely declined. "I wouldn't be able to refuse an offer to sit down, however."

Rosmerta offered him a chair and the two sat at one of the bar-top tables.

"And what does this urgent meeting consist of, m'dear?" Dumbledore started.

Rosmerta closed her eyes for a moment, picturing the day before in her mind again. She swallowed and took a deep breath. "Albus. He's alive. He's been alive all this time…with no memory. I saw him, I talked to him…it's him, Albus, I'd know him anywhere."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly. "Who, Rosmerta?"

"He was shopping at my cousin's muggle magic shop, you know the one. Giselle? She told me she thought he had looked familiar. He doesn't remember anything, but he stopped. He turned around when I called his name. I know it's him. I know it."

Dumbledore gently put his hand on Rosmerta's arm to calm her down.

"James, Albus. James Potter is still alive."

Albus Dumbledore froze. His face grew pale as his eyes widened as if trying to take in what Rosmerta was saying. He finally took his hand back, placing it in his lap with the other one.

"Tell me what happened," he said simply.

Rosmerta started at the beginning and told every detail of the day before, from what he was wearing to every word he'd uttered. She was breathless after finishing; her heart was still racing with the shock of having found him, and found him _alive_.

Dumbledore simply nodded his head. "And you say he goes by the name of 'Evan Gryffin'?"

"That's what he said. He lives in London."

"And this lady friend of his?"

"Didn't want to believe a word of it, laughed in our faces even," Rosmerta made a hurt expression.

Dumbledore smiled. "I'm sure you managed a word or two to put her in her place."

"So what now, Albus? What happens now?"

Albus Dumbledore sighed and looked out through the window to the sunny morning. "We find Mr. James Brian Potter."

Rosmerta smiled. "What a day today is."

Dumbledore smiled bigger with an extra twinkle in his eye. "It is. It also happens to be Harry Potter's birthday."

* * *

Evan rolled over - and fell off the couch. He groaned and rubbed the hip he'd fallen on before reaching up and fixing his glasses that had fallen askew while sleeping. He yawned, stretching his arms and sat up, leaning against the couch.

He didn't remember falling asleep. He had no clue why he would fall asleep on the couch. A warm breeze blew around him and he realized that the door to his deck was wide open.

That's when the day before hit him like a freight train. Everything he'd encountered, learned—_remembered…_it all came flooding back to him. He let his head drop back to the couch and he stared at the ceiling.

He wasn't at all what he thought he might be. He was a wizard. He had magic, or at least he did before the house had fallen down on him. He had a mother - a wonderful, loving, and beautiful mother.

...who had died when he was in school. She'd been murdered. He knew that at one time, before he'd lost his memory, he knew who the murderer had been - but he couldn't remember anymore.

Evan pounded his fist on the floor. Almost remembering something was more frustrating than not remembering anything.

"Think, Evan, think," he said aloud to his self. His head shot up. "My name isn't Evan…it's James."

He felt like crying. He felt like cheering and jumping up and down with excitement. But he was so confused, so lost…he was numb.

"Now what do I do? Where do I go? What's next?"

Questions…questions that he didn't want to answer. Questions that scared him, but at the same time, electrified him.

He stood and walked out onto his deck, watching the morning buzz on the street below. There were people in a rush everywhere, cars honking, and kids out playing. Life always kept moving, never stopping and waiting for anyone. This was something he'd learned after the accident.

Or was it even an accident?

He went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. While he waited, he leaned against the sink, his arms crossed across his chest, his gaze…staring at nothing. He just didn't know what to think.

_I thought I was supposed to be happy when I figured out who I was._ Happiness was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. It's not as if he could just walk back into his old life and things would be right. He'd been a wizard…his life had been so different, so different from what it was now, as a muggle.

And what about his life now? He couldn't just leave Tiffany. She _was_ his life now. Given up her own life to help him…they were two lost souls making their way through the world together. And she wasn't a witch.

Tiffany…James mind began to swirl again. He pictured her - her porcelain face, her dark hair that always flew in her face…her laughing brown eyes…green…green eyes…piercing emerald eyes. Eyes that held so much emotion when they looked at him. Eyes greener than the lush fields…green eyes that glared at him when he was a prat…green eyes that laughed when he pulled a prank…green eyes that held wonder…held a determination…held love…

James shook his head. Tiffany's eyes were brown, not green.

He poured the cup of coffee and returned to his deck, sitting down to think more. He had a headache now. This was all too much…so much to take in.

His thoughts were a blur, not really thinking of anything particular. His gaze focused on the flower garden below him. He stared at the lilies, colors of all sorts. The orange ones, the white ones, purples and pinks…

A young mother was walking past. She was pushing a stroller and trying to hold on to her little boy's hand as they walked. The little boy looked so curious. He had dark hair and a bright smile. The mother stopped and checked on the baby…

"Life never fails to keep me on my toes," a soft, yet sure, male voice came from behind James. He didn't move, didn't flinch. He knew that voice. "Impossibilities are merely things which we have not yet learned. An American author, Charles Chesnutt, said that."

"But it's relearning everything that I'm doing. I remember nothing. I remember my mother…and I remember getting my wand. That's all," James turned around and looked at the old wizard. The old wizard who had such a twinkle in his eyes. The old wizard who looked so happy that he seemed to ready to burst at the seams. An old wizard with a long beard and long fingers that so gingerly and often had offered him candy.

"You know me."

"I looked you up on the internet," James shrugged and turned back to looking out to the city. "I was in love and I don't remember her. I fought for things that I don't feel anymore."

"James Potter would never give up. He'd never be frightened enough to turn his back. James Potter pushed the limits to get what he wanted."

"I'm not James Potter…I don't know who I am."

Dumbledore took a seat and looked out over the great city, too, not speaking a word. Never in his wildest dreams, had he ever thought he'd be sitting across from James Potter again. He smiled, thinking just exactly how much Harry did look like him.

"You'll remember. It'll come back to you," Dumbledore nodded. "You knew your name and you accepted the story. You didn't believe Rosmerta to be giving you a story like your friend did. You knew it was the truth. And you remember things."

James looked at the old man who was sweeping his apartment with his eyes. James followed the gaze, taking in all of his knick-knacks and decorations.

"What was her name?" James asked in a quiet and small voice.

Dumbledore rose from his seat and walked inside, James following. For some reason, although agitated at this man's refusal to just answer the questions, his evading seemed so natural, so normal.

Dumbledore ran a bony finger across the chess board. "You'll remember her name soon enough, James. It'll all come back in time."

"Time?" James ran a hand through is hair frustratingly. "Hasn't enough time passed? Fifteen years! I haven't known anything for fifteen years! Why are you being so calm about this?"

Dumbledore looked at him with a sigh. "Fifteen years is a long time. Too long, in fact. But there's no going back and changing things that have already happened. Messing with time is messing with life and I advise not to do that. There are so many things that you need to know, but they're your feelings, and your thoughts, James."

"Damn it!" James, in one swift motion, threw his hand out and knocked everything on his table off and on to the floor. The loud crash from the broken glass of the chess game didn't faze him, or Dumbledore. He picked up a book and threw it across the room. It knocked into his collection of stag statues, breaking quite a few. "Tell me who I am!"

"You're James Potter, a man of many great things, whether he's a muggle or a wizard. You're a man of strength and nobility-"

"Cut the crap!" James yelled. "What was my life? Who murdered my mother? Why did I die?" His voice softened as he ran a hand across the table absent-mindedly. "Who did I leave behind?"

Dumbledore sighed, for once, in his many years, not knowing the right thing to say. He looked at James, Evan, as he'd called himself for the past fifteen years.

"Will you come back with me?" Dumbledore finally asked him. "Come back and remember…relearn…live again?"

James looked up and stared at him. Back. Go back. Back to his old _world_, back to his old _life_.

"I can't just leave this, you know. I have a life here that I've made for myself…" James muttered the words before realizing it. "I mean…I can't just let go of this like that life was taken away from me. I won't do it again."

Dumbledore nodded. "I understand."

"Is…is she still alive?" He asked, looking to his hands, noticing a small cut.

"I'm sorry."

James nodded. "She died in the house, right? Where Tiffany pulled me out."

"Yes. But she died a proud death."

"She would…I mean…she was a proud witch. I know that much."

"Evan?" The front door to the flat opened slowly. A dark haired head poked around the door and took a couple tentative steps in. She shut the door behind her and stared at the old man and then glanced at her friend and the mess he'd made of his flat.

"Tiffany…this is Albus Dumbledore…" James motioned.

Tiffany grew pale. Her eyes swelled with tears as she nodded, understanding. Not wanting to accept it, but whatever was going on before her - it was what Evan had wanted for so long.

"G'day," Dumbledore smiled at her.

"Um…'Lo," Tiffany managed. The man looked so strange…dressed in long robes of bright colors…the long beard…he looked just like the statue in the shop.

"Tiffany…I am," James looked at her. "I'm James Potter. I remember. I remember my mother…Serendipity. I remember getting my first wand at this shop. This nice man who knew me, knew my mum and my family…he ran the shop. They've made wands since 382 BC." James looked to Dumbledore as if to verify his memories.

Dumbledore nodded "That's correct."

"My mother had dark hair like you, Tiff. It was long and flowing and curly…she was beautiful. She had the most amazing blue eyes and the creamiest of skin. And her laugh…her laugh was so genuine and contagious. She spoiled me. She gave me everything I wanted. We baked cookies together, the muggle way, when she wasn't working. And she read me bedtime stories when I was little. She stood up for me when I had fights with my dad…she always took my side. And she was murdered. She was taken away from me because she was so wonderful…because…because…my mum was taken away from me for the same reasons she was…" James suddenly fell to the floor, his back sliding down the wall. His grey eyes glazing over.

Red and green swirls over took him. They took him to another world. Laughter. Amazing, loving laughter echoed in his mind, bringing a smile to his face. He could smell freshly baked cookies. He reached out to take one…

A stinging sensation made him laugh as he rubbed the back of his hand. The red and green swirls danced around him, laughing. The clear blue eyes smiled in approval. James felt a warmth, a feeling of love, all around him. He could smell the scent of strawberries and kiwi…the red and green twirling around him…

And it all went black.

* * *

The night stars twinkled above as Harry, once again, found himself sitting on his bedroom windowsill, looking out. His birthday had come and gone, just another day for him. He'd received owls from people who cared about him, people who were worried about him.

But none of them had made him smile like they once would have. He laughed at the jokes, he nodded at the thought that he'd soon see his friends and be out of the Dursely's house…but nothing made him feel happy. He hardly felt anything anymore.

He wondered where he'd go once he was allowed to leave the Dursley's. He didn't know if the Order still had headquarters at Grimmauld Place or not. Even if it was, he didn't want to go back there. He didn't want to see the horrific images of Mrs. Black or see Kreacher. He didn't want see the house in which Sirius had lived an unhappy childhood. He didn't want to go back to the last place he'd been able to spend time with his godfather.

Harry got a chill and shivered. Images from pictures and the pensive came to him, images of his parents and the Marauders, of happy times. Innocent times. He thought of what a magical moment it must have been when his mother had finally agreed to date his father. Of what their wedding must have been like…how much his mother had meant to his father, to Sirius…to Remus. What he had meant to his parents…the smiles in their eyes in the picture of the three of them Hagrid had given to him years before.

A warm feeling, a feeling that Harry hadn't felt in a long time, washed over him.

He didn't know what the future was going to hold. And he didn't know what he was going to have to face in the coming year. He didn't know if he'd see another birthday or not.

But he did know that Tom Riddle had ruined his life and had taken away everything that should have been his.

And he knew that if he had sixteen candles in front of him to blow out and make a wish, that he'd wish for a life where he had something. Something that he didn't have now.

As Harry climbed into bed, sixteen candles were fluttering out. And somewhere his wish was stirring in someone else.

* * *

**_...huggles n cookies..._**

**_...missers... _**


	5. Homeward Bound

**Chapter Five – Homeward Bound**

He didn't want to open his eyes. He lay there, thinking…trying to remember his dream… or maybe it had been a vision…or a memory. He couldn't tell.

His pillow was soft and the sheets covering him were crisp and clean. He took a breath, smelling the air. It smelled of strange scents, yet it gave him a healthy and clean feeling.

He wasn't at home. _His_ bed was softer, _his_ sheets more rumpled. He slowly fluttered his eyes open to take a peak.

Gasping, he sat up in the bed, alarmed. There were rows of beds along two walls…the walls were made of…stone? Pictures of wizards hung on the walls. And they were moving?

James looked around and saw his glasses on a nearby table. He picked them up and put them on, taking a better look. He'd been here before, many times before, in fact.

His heart started racing, he could feel the pounding in his mind. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply before running his hands up his face and through his hair.

Hogwarts. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

This was his world. This was the infirmary. This was real.

* * *

Erica took a sip of her tea as she shuffled a few more papers around. It wasn't even noon yet, and she was exhausted. The latest developments in the Dark Wizard's return were bringing her clients left and right. Mentally, it was draining for her as much as it was the client. Hearing all the horror stories, the fears, the anguish…the anger. It was a wonder _she_ hadn't needed someone to talk to yet.

There was a knock at her door and her secretary, Kelsey, poked her head in.

"Erica…you've got an owl out here that won't settle down. It's got a letter to you but won't let me get it," Kelsey explained.

Erica chuckled. "No problem, Kels, let it fly in here."

The moment Kelsey opened the door wide enough, the beautiful golden owl swooped in and landed on Erica's desk. It nipped at its legs, hinting for Erica to take the parchment.

"Okay, okay," Erica laughed. "Demanding little thing, aren't you? Who did you come for, hmm?"

Erica untied the parchment from the owl and opened a drawer of her desk to retrieve a snack for the bird. The owl happily ate while Erica read her note.

_Ms. Welling;_

_It seems that an urgent and complicated matter has arisen and your help is needed. The Headmaster would greatly appreciate if you could offer your assistance in this. Please send a reply immediately. If you choose to come, apparate to The Three Broomsticks where you will be escorted to the school grounds. It might be wise of you to bring your assistant in your immediate arrival, as we've no guarantee how long your assistance will be needed._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Erica scrunched her nose in curiosity and confusion. Had something happened to Harry Potter? It was the only thing she could think of, since Dumbledore had only spoken to her days earlier about him.

"Kels?" Erica yelled through the door as she grabbed her own piece of parchment to reply.

Kelsey poked her head in again. "Yes?"

"No more appointments until further notice and get ready to apparate in a few minutes," Erica told her.

"Oookay," Kelsey raised her eyebrows at her boss. "What's going on?"

"I don't know, but we've been summoned to Hogwarts immediately."

Erica looked at her copy of her appointment book and sighed. She had a few clients that afternoon, but nothing too serious…compared to how this sounded, anyway. She cleaned up her desk, never liking to leave it a mess, and sat down in her chair.

She hadn't been back to Hogwarts in years. It'd be nice to see the castle again, in all its wonderful glory, and nice to see her old professors - those who were still there, at least. She was a bit nervous, though, at what this 'urgent and complicated' matter could entail.

Within a few minutes, both Erica and Kelsey were ready to go and apparated with a _Pop!_ to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade.

"Wow, I've not been back here in years," Kelsey smiled, looking around the street. Erica smiled in agreement at her and with a nod, led the way into the busy with lunch-rush bar.

"And the letter said nothing about why we're here?" Kelsey asked as the two ladies found an empty table and took a seat.

Erica shook her head, glancing around for a familiar face for explanation. "No. Just said it was urgent."

"Do you think it has something to do with your," Kelsey lowered her voice. "New client?"

Erica shrugged. "I'm not sure, Kels. As far as I know, from the way Albus talked, he doesn't even know he'll be seeing me. I've not been briefed yet with information about him."

"Well, if it isn't the best mind-analyst in all of Britain," a happy voice sounded from behind Erica.

"Rosmerta, you're looking like your usual good self," Erica beamed back. "How are things around here?"

Rosmerta nodded her head. "Good as they can get in times like these. How are you?"

"I'm good," Erica smiled. "Do you remember Kelsey Tarsus? She was a year behind me in school."

Rosmerta smiled. "Ah, yes, Kelsey, I do. You were friends with Durga Habba and Dileepa Patil, weren't you?"

Kelsey smiled. "Yes, I was. A long time ago. They married, you know? I'm sure you see their twin daughters around during Hogsmeade visits during the school year."

Rosmerta smiled. "Ah, yes, Padma and Parvati. Nice young girls. So what brings you two all the way out here? Lunch?"

Erica smiled. "Actually, we're to meet someone from the school to escort us."

Rosmerta beamed. "Yes, yes of course. In that case, a drink on the house while you wait."

Before either could protest or ask questions, Rosmerta made her way back to the bar where she sent two butterbeers their way.

"Okay," Erica shrugged and took a sip. "Something is obviously going on."

"And I guess we're about to find out what," Kelsey pointed to the doorway where a rather large man had just walked in.

Erica smiled, rising out of her chair to greet the man. "Hagrid!"

"Ms. Welling," Hagrid tipped his head at her. He seemed to have some sort of excited look on his face. "Ms. Tarsus."

"Are you our escort, Hagrid?" Erica asked as she gave him a hug.

"That I am, and it's urgent. Dumbledore wants to speak with ya right away," Hagrid told the two women as they headed out the door. Erica smiled when she saw the threstal-drawn carriage awaiting them. She snuck a wink to Kelsey who was also smiling.

Hagrid opened the door and helped them both in before climbing in his self.

"Not used to these here carriages, I take the lake," said Hagrid, attempting at getting comfortable in the small carriage.

Erica chuckled. "Do you know what this is all about, Hagrid?"

"No ma'm," a look of disappointment flickered quickly through the Headmaster's most loyal follower. "Dumbledore said I'd be real happy 'bout it but wouldn't tell me anything."

Erica nodded, taking note in Hagrid's discontentment. She knew that the Headmaster trusted Hagrid with some of his most private and important secrets. As the carriage made its way to the grounds of Hogwarts, Erica's forehead wrinkled in thought while her assistant's face glowed with excitement at seeing the castle.

"Erica! Look! It's still as beautiful as it always was," Kelsey exclaimed, pointing out the window.

Erica smiled. "It is. It still feels like coming home, doesn't it? Even after all these years."

"Home," Kelsey sighed. "Home is where the heart is."

Erica nodded, looking up at the great castle walls. "Life's a voyage that's homeward bound.¹"

The carriage stopped and Hagrid helped the two witches climb out. Not much was said as the two alumni drank in the sights and smells of Hogwarts. Being summer holiday, the grounds were quiet but for the chirping of birds in the distance.

Erica felt shivers down her spine as she stopped and looked up at the big doors to the main entrance. She took in a deep breath of the warm, fresh air, letting her eyes soak in the beauty of the Quidditch pitch in the distance, the Great Lake behind her…she saw the tree that she and her friends once sat under to study on lazy afternoons ,the greenhouses, the Whomping Willow tree, and Hagrid's hut.

"Erica, come on," Kelsey brought Erica out of her trip down memory lane. She followed her assistant and Hagrid into the castle, a grin on her face. Everything was the same, yet so different now. Her memories were scattered about, shining in the gleam of the knight's armor in the corner, hanging in the Gryffindor pennant.

She stifled a giggle at seeing portraits she used to sneak past after curfew, the portraits that she used to talk to, nod a hello to on her way to breakfast every morning.

Too busy remembering fond thoughts, Erica didn't realize Hagrid had led them to the statue leading to Dumbledore's office. He said the password and the stairs appeared. Erica led the way, feeling jittery as she headed towards the Headmaster.

She knocked on the door, standing straight to make herself deemable and professional once again, not a school girl. She heard the command of enter and opened the door. In one swift second, she lost all composer and broke out into a smile once again.

"Headmaster, I always adored your office," Erica winked at the rosy old man.

Dumbledore was seated at his desk, nibbling on lemon drops. He smiled, nodding to two chairs in front of him. "Thank you, Ms. Welling. I have quite a liking for it myself."

Erica and Kelsey took their seats as Dumbledore offered drinks and candy, which both ladies politely declined.

Erica noticed immediately that the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes was vibrant. He looked happy, but seemed to be troubled in the back of his mind. Erica sensed conflict - a strange sensation for the auburn-haired witch. Of all the minds she could reach, Dumbledore's was one that she couldn't imagine.

She cleared her throat. "Sir, the message Professor McGonagall sent said it was a matter of urgency."

Dumbledore smiled. "Minerva, Ms. Welling. She's no longer your professor, nor am I your headmaster. Albus will do."

Erica smiled. "Only if you call me Erica rather than Ms. Welling."

"Certainly," Dumbledore agreed. "You seem to be enjoying your trip down memory lane."

"I am," Erica sighed happily. "Hogwarts is such a special place in more ways than one."

"Erica," he smiled at her, leaning forward just a bit. "The most important work you and I will ever do will be within the wall of our own homes². Sometimes the slightest of things lead to the most monumental achievements; they pave the path for someone who was destined to rise above us. And sometimes, we must help lead the way for another so that they may guide the path of the unknown for yet someone else."

Erica nodded with a confused look on her face.

"What I am trying to tell you, Erica, is that life has a way of leading us on a path of uncertainty, which, in the end, upon looking back, we see it was all for something. And what may seem like one thing at the time, will in fact, evolve into something greater. What I am about to tell you is only known to a select few, and for the benefit of the soul in search, I wish to keep it this way. The decision to let others know, I am going to leave up to you, and your client."

Erica nodded and then tilted her head. "Wait - my new client? Albus, I don't mean to sound rude or ungrateful for your help in offering my assistance to those who need it, but I have a full schedule as it is. What, with He-who-must-not-be-named resurrecting himself, I have owls flying into my office backwards. And I did agree to take on Harry-"

"Erica," Dumbledore put his hand to the air to quiet her. "I have a feeling that this client is going to take over much of your time. You'll choose to limit your other clients, save for one in-particular."

"Again, who is this new client?" Erica was getting frustrated, a feeling she couldn't stand having.

"A few days ago, Rosmerta went to visit her cousin. Giselle runs a shop in Muggle London where she sells items of the magical sort. As Rosmerta approached the entrance to the shop she witnessed an unmistakable head of hair."

Erica's eyebrows rose as she took a sideways glance to Kelsey. Had Dumbledore gone out of his mind?

"Without thinking, Rosmerta called a name to this man - a name that we only speak of in memory anymore. And this man stopped and turned towards her. It was, in fact, this man who Rosmerta thought he resembled. He's been living the past fifteen years as a muggle with no memory of his Wizarding life."

Erica felt her heart drop into her stomach. She had no idea who Dumbledore was going to say it was, but for some reason she knew it was a miracle. She knew this man was missed and that he was needed, now more than ever. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising as she leaned closer to the desk.

She wasn't prepared for the name uttered from Dumbledore's lips.

"Erica, we've found, to be fully alive and well, James Potter."

* * *

His throat was dry, his eyes wide, and his mind? Confused. Lost. The conflicting feeling of wanting to cry and wanting to jump up and down with excitement hadn't left him.

He sighed as he pursed his lips willing a memory to come back. He wanted so desperately to remember being in this room, who he had been here to see or who had come to see him. He was so close to feeling something, feeling emotions he should feel for being back here, but they were still too far away to grasp.

_Hogwarts…my wand…Mum…the wand shop…cookies…green…_

His thoughts and words were all jumbled in his mind, circling and circling, making him dizzy.

Lost in his dizzying thoughts, he didn't notice the thin older woman enter the room.

She didn't say anything. She hadn't yet spoken a word in his presence. In all her years, she had been witness to many amazing things but nothing quite like this. With this, she had memories, she had a place in her heart that had once felt the loss and now felt the relief, the excitement, the happiness.

James looked over and stared back at her. Neither one seemed to know what to say, what to do - they only stared. She was standing a few beds away from his.

"Don't tell me that you still don't manage to smile much?" James said without thinking. "If you'd sit back a bit and relax some, you wouldn't have so many grey hairs."

She couldn't stop the few tears that escaped down her cheeks. He spoke to her as if only time had passed between them, old friends finally catching up with one another.

"You remember me?" She finally squeaked, not sounding characteristically like herself at all.

"Of course," James nodded. "I know you; I know you were tough and strict, but with good reason. You were a professor. We had some sort of understanding, some sort of relationship outside of school. I don't know your name or what you taught me. I don't know any more than that - but… I'm closer to home than I was yesterday."

"You're closer to home than even you could imagine," Dumbledore's face came from behind the witch. He entered with a smile and that ever-existing twinkle. "I'm glad that you've finally woken up."

James stared, slightly confused, and face expressionless. "I'm sorry I was asleep."

"You've been out for two days, James," Dumbledore informed him.

James gasped and looked concerned. "Two days? What? I- uh, work! And Tiffany! My rent is due! I-" He attempted at climbing out from underneath the sheets, but his legs tangled. "I can't be here right now."

"YOU LAY BACK DOWN THIS INTSTANT!" Roared a loud voice. "Always did try and get up too soon. Too many things to do, mind racing so far ahead I'm surprised his body ever had a chance to recuperate."

James stopped and stared at the witch as she mumbled on about him and tucked him back into the bed. She gently pushed him back, propping his pillows up some and feeling his head for a fever.

"Fever's gone down," she nodded. "Headmaster, the sooner we make a decision the better, remember."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey, I'll bear that in mind," Dumbledore smiled sweetly at the older woman. "But let me remind you it is not our decision to make."

Pomfrey shook her head with her hands on her hips. "If we had only known. Welcome back, Potter."

"_Potter!" the voice screamed. _

_He laughed, sharing a proud smile with his friends. She was so temperamental. He heard the pounding of small feet running down the stairs and to him._

"_You have gone _too_ far this time!" She yelled at him. He looked at her, to see her face. All he saw was green. The lush green…the dazzling, sparkling green._

"_POTTER! Do you hear me?"_

_Green, green…a flash of green light…the green eyes that showered him with so many emotions…the scream…the bravery…_

"_Potter?"_

"Potter? James, are you alright?" Pomfrey's head was tilted as she looked into James's glazed eyes. He shook the daydream away and nodded, taking in every feature of this woman's face. She knew him. She seemed to have known him well.

Pomfrey turned back and looked at Dumbledore. "I don't like this. I don't like this at all, Headmaster. It's evil magic at work here."

"Now, let's not jump to worst-case scenarios. At the very least, we know this is James and we know he's working at remembering his life."

Madam Pomfrey walked out of the room muttering her worries under her breath. As she walked through the door, she yelled back a reminder that James needed his rest.

"She always says that, doesn't she?" James looked at the two Hogwarts leaders.

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, I am often finding myself in trouble for bothering students in need of rest. Tell me, James, do you remember parts of things?"

He nodded, "I'm familiar with things. I-I…I know that I know things, but I can't bring them to the surface."

Dumbledore nodded. "Time."

James sighed. He remembered being in his flat and having a similar conversation with the old wizard. He was about sick of time, though.

Thinking of his flat reminded him of Tiffany and he suddenly looked at Dumbledore.

He nodded, somehow knowing what he was thinking. "She's here. She's frightened, I think, but curious. Minerva, if you wouldn't mind, I think it's best that James talk to Tiffany before anyone else."

McGonagall nodded and hurried out of the room to retrieve the one person James knew and felt comfortable with.

"Do you feel familiar with this place?" Dumbledore asked, sitting on the bed next to James's.

James looked around once again. "I do. I know I'm at Hogwarts. I know this is where I went to school and lived my life for many years…I grew up here, didn't I?"

Dumbledore smiled. "You experienced many things while here."

He swallowed, looking towards the far window. "I met her here, didn't I? We went to school together. I fell in love with her while I was here…chasing after her."

"This is all true."

"I had to chase her…I had to chase her green eyes." James eyes averted back to Dumbledore abruptly. "Friends. I had friends…where are they? Why didn't anyone look for me if you didn't find my body?" Anger suddenly seized through his veins.

"You had very good friends, James. You were well liked both here and in the Wizarding community. When we found the house, it was obvious what had happened - we knew he was looking for you." Dumbledore sighed. He sighed for remembering that night, for what it brought to his heart. He sighed with relief for being wrong on the true traitor. He sighed for wanting to tell this man before him everything but knowing that he couldn't. "Any number of things could have happened to your body, James, and you still being alive was at the bottom of the list. You had left your wand, your jacket…" Dumbledore stopped and swallowed. "James Potter would have never willingly left what you did."

"What did I leave!" James roared. The inner part of his eyes was growing moist with frustrated tears forming. "Why can't you just tell me?"

"E-e-evan?" A small voice sounded from the doorway. James passed one last angry look to Dumbledore and sighed in relief at the sight of Tiffany. He started to grab at the sheets again.

"Tiff!" He cried. "Damn it! These damn sheets!"

Tiffany ran to his bed and wrapped her arms around him. She buried her head in his shoulder and cried. James stopped struggling and wrapped his arms around her. He laid his chin against the top of her head and held her tight.

"This is real," he whispered. "I know it, Tiff. I feel it all."

She nodded, gripping him harder.

"I'm not leaving you," he told her. "I won't leave you."

"I-I just, I don't know what to call you…I don't know," Tiffany pulled back from him and sat on his bed. "I've been scared of this day for so long…"

He nodded, "So have I. I always knew if I ever remembered anything or found someone from my old life that it wouldn't be easy…but…"

"A wizard?" Tiffany tilted her head. "Magic."

James looked at her as she contemplated this for the thousandth time that day. He didn't know what to say to her either. What _was_ she supposed to call him? Evan wasn't his name. He needed to be called James, he knew this. The more he heard it, the more he'd fall back into his old shoes. But…Tiffany was from his adopted world - his made to work life. Tiffany had saved him. Tiffany had been there. And she called him Evan.

"Wait," James looked around, but saw that Dumbledore had quietly left the room.

"What?" Tiffany asked him.

"I…I was just going to ask Dumbledore if he knew what Evan Gryffin meant to me. You know, since it _isn't_ my name."

Tiffany nodded. "He's a nice man. Albus. He told me to call him that. And Minerva and Hagrid. Madam Pompfry and Erica."

James creased his forehead. "Albus." He nodded as he said his name. "Madam Pompfry." Again he nodded, acknowledging that he knew who that was. "Minerva? Minerva…Minerva…" He was pushing to remember. He knew this. He knew her name. He knew who she was. "Minerva Ma-something. Minerva Ma-gone…Ma…manel…Minerva…"

"I don't remember her last name," Tiffany admitted.

"She was once one of my professors."

"They told me."

James's attention snapped and he looked at Tiffany. "They told you? What did they tell you, Tiff?"

"I…they don't want me to tell you things, Evan. They want you to remember…I…I don't know. I called work and told them something had happened. I told them you found people who knew you and we had to leave town. Roger said to take our time…he said good luck and that he was happy for you."

James nodded, running that hand through that mess of hair again. "Why won't they just tell me, Tiff? Why do they insist that I remember everything on my own?"

"I don't know, baby," Tiffany rubbed his arm. "I talked to the psychiatrist lady and she said-"

"Psychiatrist?" James exclaimed. "I'm not crazy!"

"Darling, I _know_, but…you have to understand that this is so much for you to handle. It would be for anyone…and…as you've lived as a…_muggle_," she swallowed the word. "You…it's a shock for your mind to realize that magic really exists and that you're a wizard."

"You talked to the psychiatrist?"

"For a few hours this morning, actually," Tiffany admitted. "This is a lot for me to take in, the Wizarding world. She's really nice. She knew you in school. You weren't friends but she knew who you were."

James sighed and sat back in the bed. "I wasn't prepared for this."

"How could you be? It came to you, though, Evan. You knew as soon as Rosmerta called you James, you knew that was who you really are. And you've had memories, you remember things…you're getting it back. It's what you've wanted for all these years."

"But I'm so scared, Tiffany. I'm so scared," James looked at his best friend. "I don't know what I've left…I don't understand. I realize now, just how much I don't know about myself. I have two lives…"

He didn't try to stop the tears or pretend that they weren't freely falling down his face. He closed his eyes, letting them find their way down his cheeks. He felt Tiffany's hand rubbing his arm in comfort.

"What if I don't like who I was? Why did someone want me dead? Why did they kill the woman I loved? What is it that's holding all these people back from telling me things? What about…what about us? What about our lives?"

Tiffany managed a smile to reassure him. "I'm not going anywhere as long as you want me around, Evan- er…James." She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath upon opening them. "It doesn't matter who you were, it's who you are now. It's what you do now, baby, that counts. You…you're thirty six."

James opened his eyes and stared at her. "What?"

"You're thirty six. The twenty seventh of March in nineteen sixty. That's your birthday."

James nodded. "Thank you. Thank you for telling me."

She smiled at him. "Baby, I wish I could tell you everything. I wish I could bring it all back for you." Her smile stayed on her lips but faded in her eyes as her tears resumed. "If I could take it all back for you, I would. I'd bring her back for you and your life and everything that you lost, the people, the…"

"Tiffany!" James pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms around her again, shushing her gently. "God knows I wish I had what I've lost, but I wouldn't trade you for anything either. I love you, Tiffany. You're my best friend in this forsaken world."

* * *

Erica shut the door with no sound and turned to walk down the hallway. She sighed and rubbed her temples.

She never thought she'd see James Potter cry. Even when people they knew in school were dying, when families were being lost and torn apart, she never saw the Head Boy cry. He had been strong, he held it together. He was the comforter, as were Sirius and Remus. The Marauder's were fighters all the way, but they never once forgot why they fought.

Erica was at a loss now that he was awake. For the past two days her mind had been running and dancing with thoughts. Her heart had dropped to the pits of her stomach when Dumbledore had uttered his name. She didn't believe him at first, thought it all some sick and twisted joke.

But then she saw him. She saw him sleeping there in the infirmary, his hair a mess like it'd always been. His tall frame, his not quite lanky, yet not quite buff build…it was all the same, just as she'd remembered years ago- only older now. So much lost and so much gained, but nowhere closer than he was before.

His voice even sounded the same, just strained right now, expectedly.

He wanted to know everything and he deserved to know everything. But everything was a lot, and it was a lot to handle for anyone. James hadn't led a normal or boring life by any standards before that terrible night - and life hadn't been an easy trail for those he loved since.

Dumbledore had explained to Erica the story of Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. She now knew that Sirius was not the one who turned to the dark side, but the small, quiet, pudgy Peter. The rat - and so fitting that a rat had been his animagus form.

Her first night back at Hogwarts, Erica had cried herself to sleep. She cried for James, for Sirius, for Remus, for Lily and for Harry. The grief and the tragedy these people treaded with day after day, some not even aware of all that surrounded them.

She cried for lost dreams and lost loves. She cried for lost possibilities and the pursuit of getting any of it back. She cried for the pressure the now sixteen year old boy must be feeling. The bleakness of life that enveloped him when he slept. His thoughts of being alone and scared. The weight of the Wizarding world on his shoulders.

Erica wanted to make this right. She wanted James Potter to remember everything and make it better. She wanted Sirius to have not gone through that veil. She wanted Tom Riddle to have never been born at all.

But all Erica had the power to do was to talk and to listen. To help two men struggle with their lives. Two men who were the same person, a father and son.

Fifty years ago, the Potter family had fought the dark side of magic. And they fought it in little ways every day for years after that. Twenty years ago, they gave their lives to fight it again. They accepted the challenge, accepted their fight and fought for the good of the Wizarding world. And here they were today, still fighting. Fighting not only for the wizards and witches in the world, not only fighting against the evil that lurks around every corner and threatens each and every one of us, but fighting for themselves. Fighting against themselves, fighting…fighting…fighting…

Erica found herself at the portrait of the Fat Lady, the portrait guarding the entrance into the Gryffindor Tower.

The Fat Lady wasn't around; Erica looked up and down the hall for any sign of her. It was summer holiday, after all, and no one was around to enter the tower.

"Home?" Dumbledore happened upon her.

"Huh?"

He nodded towards the empty portrait."Home. It was your home away from home for seven years."

"It was," Erica nodded. "I cherish every memory I have of it. I have a home…I always have."

"This isn't going to be easy, Erica," Dumbledore told her.

"I know," she sighed. "But I have to do it, Albus. He didn't deserve to get anything taken away from him. He deserves it all back. And I know he can't have it all, but I won't rest until he gets back all that he can."

"That's very gallant of you," Dumbledore smiled.

"Not gallant, my job. My compassion…my desire. You and I remember, he doesn't. He has a son with the world on his shoulders right now, stuck in a place where he's not happy. He has a friend out there struggling with life just because of what he turns into once a month and struggling through life from all the losses he's endured. A friend who's doing his best, against all odds to be there for this son…but can't. He has a life, Albus. He has a life that he needs to have back."

"That's why I called on you. He's awake, but I'll guess you know that already. I think he should meet you. Before nightfall."

"He didn't know before the full moon, did he?"

"No."

"When do you want to tell Remus?"

"When you think James is ready."

"James isn't going to be ready for anything, ever."

"Well, when you say it's time," Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "G'evening, dear." The old man continued his walk along the corridor leaving Erica alone.

She took a deep breath and focused her mind on her task. Her thoughts buzzed once again with all the ideas she had to help James. Things to say, things to suggest…

She wondered off, once again, not knowing where she was going.

* * *

The orange and pink hues to the west were a comforting sight for James as he walked the paths of the Hogwarts grounds. He'd finally convinced Madam Pomfrey to let him out for some fresh air.

The strange thing was that he felt like he _was_ home. He couldn't name things or place them, but they all felt right. He'd look to one tree as he passed and feel nothing, pass another and know that it was important to him and his past. His feet led the way, down the hills and across the grass.

He saw the Quidditch pitch in the distance and didn't know what it was, but he knew, without a doubt, that it was a wonderful thing. He walked along the lake's edge, imagining soaring above it, soaring freely against the night air, the stars twinkling behind him as a backdrop.

"Minerva McGonagall," he whispered out loud. "She was the head of my house, what ever that means. And I played sports. I was a leader of some sort. I had fun…I got good marks. Everything Tiffany said - it was true. I enjoyed life here."

"You more than enjoyed it," a female voice sounded through the breeze blowing in off the lake. "You _were_ life, James, for a lot of people. You held this... persona of life for many."

James turned around to find the owner of this voice standing behind him just off the path. His heart stopped for a moment before beating on like it rigorously did. She stood almost a head shorter than him, the setting sun making her auburn hair glow with the red tints that faded with the dark.

She brushed the waves behind her ears as she looked at him, awaiting a comment of some sort back. Her hazel eyes wide with curiosity and a sense of sweet salvation.

"Erica, I presume," James replied.

She nodded, taking a few steps around him to end near the water's edge. "That would be my name. You also know my purpose being here?"

"I talked to Tiffany," was his simple answer.

"She's a very sweet lady," Erica kicked at a few pebbles with her foot. She wore muggle clothes - the only witch James had seen doing so. She stretched her toes after the small kick and put her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. She shrugged her bare shoulders. "You've been very lucky for the past fifteen years."

James noticed her red tank top enhanced the slight red hues in her hair as it teased her shoulders. She was looking out across the lake, her expression suggesting thought.

"Tiffany has been…" he didn't finish his sentence. "Your hair? Is it naturally red?"

Erica laughed at him, turning to face him. She ran one hand through the waves as she answered. "I thank you for saying it looks red. When it hits the light the right way it appears to have red in it, but no, my hair is just brown. I'd love for it to be red, a fiery-"

"A fiery billow of temperamental rapture," James finished for her.

Erica smiled, an impressed look upon her face. "And they told me you didn't remember anything."

Erica, her hands back in her pockets, began to walk down the path leading towards the pitch. James stared at her retreating back a moment before jogging to catch up with her.

"How did I know what you were going to say?"

Erica shrugged with a neutral look. "You were the one that said it."

"I said that?"

"You said that to describe her all the time. She was your, and I quote, 'embodied princess with a fiery billow of temperamental rapture' to feed your desires," Erica winked. "It sounded awfully romantic to the vast amount of Potter fans you had. I believe she thought it sounded pig-headed and chauvinistic and Sirius was rather jealous of you for being so poetic."

"Serious?"

"No, Sirius, like the star, your best friend," Erica smiled as they continued walking.

"My best friend. S-I-R-I-U-S? Like the star, the brightest star seen from earth," James nodded. "My fascination with astronomy."

Erica tilted her head in a thinking manner. "Well, perhaps it was your subconscious way of keeping him close to you. Otherwise, as rumors had it, neither you nor Sirius were rather good in astronomy. You got good marks as you always did, but got kicked out of class more often than not."

James laughed as if he was remembering good old times. "You're easy to talk to for being a psychiatrist."

Erica smiled as she stopped on soft green grass. "Don't think of me as a doctor, James. Think of me as someone who wants to help you become who you should be. Not become what was taken from you or what you became after the loss, but someone who answers to the name James Brian Potter, aka, Evan."

He stared into her hazel eyes. They were warm and inviting, luring him into depths of an unknown. She wasn't telling him everything but she was freely speaking. She knew things that would have mattered to him, not to everyone else.

"Do you know where you are? Where you're standing?" Erica asked him, glancing to the green, green grass and then looking up to the stands and the circle goals in the distance.

James swallowed as he followed her gaze. "I played here, didn't I?"

She nodded. "You did a lot here. You led a team to victory after victory. You swallowed your pride in fights, you chased after your dreams…"

"How do you know so much about me?"

Erica smiled. "I was a member of the Potter fan club. I was in Gryffindor with you. I was a prefect and attended the meetings when you were Head Boy. I studied with her."

James blinked back tears and shook his head. _Did I just hear her right?_ She said _Gryffin_dor.

"Wait- Erica," James started as she turned her back on him and began the walk towards the castle. She waved one of her hands in the air.

"It's dinner time, James, I'm starved."

"Wait!" James took off after her. "You said- and then- but what- why do you keep saying _her_? What was her name?"

Erica stopped walking, still facing the castle and not James. She sighed and put a hand to her forehead before answering. "James, do you realize the emotional blows you are about to suffer as you resurrect your old life? While right now you view it as simply remembering, trying to take back what was yours - it was your _life_. You lived a very energetic and vivacious life. You always lived as if nothing in the world was better than simply being alive. And then you were gone - so much was gone the night that you vanished, the night the Wizarding world thought you died. And something else started. A new life for our world started, a new prophet had been proven and a new savior had been elected. And our world had to go on, those of us who adored you, who knew you or knew of you - we had to keep going. We had to keep going for each other, for the life that you left behind and for the memory of you and her. And our world is back in chaos. It's a lot to handle for anyone, for those of us who have been witness to everything…but for you? James, you have so much to take in. You're mind is letting in a little at a time, and I know that you are frustrated and that you want to know it all, right now, but the way your mind seems to be working, it's protecting you. And I don't want to bomb you with too much."

"I just want to know her name," James said quietly. "I've had dreams for years of a loving feeling. And of green and red swirls. I know that it's all connected to her."

She smiled and nodded. "You really did love her more than life itself. She had red hair, James, if you couldn't figure that out from your own quote. And she had green eyes. The greenest eyes I've seen, aside from one other. She was passionate and loving. She was caring and sincere. She struggled through life in her own way, a way that led her to being the brightest witch of your year. She always stood her ground and fought with the best of them, with you, next to you. She hated you and loved you. She gave her own life for love. I remember hearing you say that she was your flower garden to escape to. She was Lily Evans."

Erica gave a meaningful look, turned, and walked away before James had a chance to comment. He couldn't speak, anyway. His mouth went dry and his heart had fallen to his stomach.

Lily Evans. _Evan_s. _Gryffin_dor. He'd come up with his name from the slightest of memories.

Lily Evans. The quiet girl with the temper. The beautiful porcelain doll with volcanic red hair and emerald eyes that dazzled with emotion. She was a prefect, she was Head Girl. She loved to laugh and she loved to learn. She gave her all to anything she did, whether it was berating James or loving him.

Lily Evans had been his. She had been his _embodied princess with a fiery billow of temperamental rapture to feed his desires,_ his _flower garden to escape to_.

She had been his wife.

* * *

Erica walked into the Great Hall where dinner was currently taking place. There were few people in attendance, the only ones at the castle at the time. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, Nurse Pomfrey, Filtch and Kelsey were all eating and talking quietly with Tiffany.

"Erica," Dumbledore smiled at her. "You could have invited James to eat with us."

Erica chuckled. "I don't think eating is on James's mind at the moment. I'm sure he wants to be alone."

"What's wrong?" Tiffany looked alarmed, her dark hair falling into her face.

Erica took her seat and began filling her plate. "We talked."

Kelsey knew the look in her boss's eyes. She gave a silent nod to Erica, knowing this was the hardest 'case' Erica had ever dealt with. She was going to meet with Harry in a few days, and she knew, too, that Erica had her reservations on her ability to work with him now.

"I told him Lily's name," Erica said just before taking a bite of food.

* * *

Not yet ready to face anyone, anyone at all, James had continued his odyssey of the castle. He wandered the grounds until it became too dark to see. He found so many familiar sights that beheld him for moments at a time. He stepped into the Forbidden Forest until a feeling of shivers clamored down his spine.

Once he re-entered the castle, he roamed the halls, looking into deserted classrooms, walking through the library and sitting at one of the tables in the Great Hall.

Every portrait he passed gave him an odd look. They all seemed to want to say something, but couldn't form the right words. He stopped at one with a sleeping lady who was rather large. She looked very familiar to him, but he didn't bother her.

He found the astronomy tower and gazed out to the night sky, looking over the grounds and to the mountains in the distance.

_Lily Evans._ The name kept somersaulting through his mind. She was gone now, never to return like he had. Tears slipped down his cheeks without his knowing. More desperately than to know his own, he wanted to relive her memories. He wanted to hold her, to be with her, to kiss her. He wanted to love her one last time.

All he had loved had been stripped away from him, including his own self. He didn't yet know why or who had been the perpetrator, but he knew that once he found out, revenge would be sweet. He realized he wasn't the only one to suffer at the hands of this…this…_thing_.

He needed his wand. He couldn't perform much magic without his wand. He wondered what had become of it that ill-fated night. The night his home, and the life as he knew it, had been taken away.

He made his way back to his bed in the infirmary. He smiled at the thought of Lily coming to visit him here. He had a feeling he'd been in here often. He wondered if he'd ever come to visit her in here.

As he readied himself for bed and climbed in, a thought struck him. Something that Erica had said. _Something else started…a new savior had been elected…for the life that you had left behind…_

What had she meant by all of that? Why were those words sticking out to him? What had he left behind? Where was Sirius now? Why couldn't he see him?

A single tear fell from his tired eyes as he laid his head to the pillow. He had more new questions than he did answers from today, but he was on his way. He knew, in time, it would come. He was homeward bound now, on his way to taking back what was rightfully his.

He was James Potter and no one told James Potter no.

* * *

_¹ Herman Melville – author of Mobydick_

_² Harold B. Lee _

_**...huggles n cookies...**_

_**...missers... **  
_


	6. More Than Fine

**Chapter Six – More than Fine**

James stopped in front of a portrait of fruit and stared at it. He felt nervous and a little silly, but something inside of him urged him to try it.

Taking a quick glance up and down the hall to make sure no one was around, James took a deep breath, exhaled and reached his hand up to the painting. He tickled the pear with his forefinger and gasped when the paneling the picture was mounted on moved aside.

He grinned and stepped through cautiously.

He'd been wandering the halls of the castle, inhaling the scents and aromas, and was surprised at how he just seemed to _know_ things. He'd decided that he'd follow any gut instinct that came to him and when his stomach had growled at the sight of the portrait, he figured, why not? This Wizarding world was crazy enough for the strangest things to be real.

Swallowing back his hesitance, James embarked on the journey down the steps. He wasn't at all prepared for what he saw, or the reaction of who he soon learned were the house elves.

The small creatures with bat-like ears and large, bulging eyes all looked at James in as much wonderment as he to them. A few went on about their business, paying no mind to the wizard intruder; others, eager to serve him, bounded to him, asking in squeaky voices, what they could do for him.

One stood to the side in awe, staring at him as if he'd known him. This was the one James looked to.

"Er…hello," James managed.

"Sir…looks just like Harry Potter…" the house elf tilted his head, looking over James.

James shook his head at the name. "Um, no…I'm James. James Potter…do…this is the kitchens, right?"

Noticing Dobby's intense gaze at the wizard, the rest of the house elves made their way back to their jobs before the interruption.

"James Potter, sir?" Dobby walked closer to him in a slow and circling matter.

"Yeah…what's your name?" James ran a hand through his hair, rethinking that maybe he should have just waited for dinner to eat.

"Dobby, sir, is my name. Just Dobby the House Elf…what can Dobby get for James Potter, sir?" Dobby was confused but knew this was not Harry.

"Um, anything, really, would do. I'd like to go outside and eat…if there is something I could get to take with me," James explained as he looked at Dobby.

"Yes, sir, right away, sir," Dobby turned and headed off to get James something to eat.

James stood, uneasy and feeling out of place. He'd about given the nurse a heart attack that morning when she came in to check on him.

With a humor in his voice, he'd rolled over and smiled at her. "Poppy, I'm quite fine today and if you don't mind I think I'll wander about. Unless you think ole Dumbly would have a problem with that? I'm sure Erica can find me if she needs me."

Pomfrey had stopped dead in her tracks and stared, open-mouthed at him for a few moments, making James smile even bigger. _Good_, he had thought, _he _did_ remember things._ And it was happening just like that, not a moments notice and something would slip out.

Finally, after gazing at him, Pomfrey had smiled and told him very well. She would pass the word on to the Headmaster and told James to make sure to get some fresh air.

So James had been wandering the whole morning. He figured it was well into the afternoon, as the sun was starting its slow decent from the center of the sky. Mostly, he had just walked the halls, gazing at things, looking into corners and finding his way around. It seemed easy enough to get lost in the big castle, but James never _felt_ loss. He always figured out where he was going.

"Will this do Sir well?" Dobby came back with a basket and food inside it.

James smiled. "Thank you, Dobby, it'll do fine. I'll see you around, right?"

Dobby just nodded his small head as he watched the man who looked just like Harry Potter walk back up the stairs and out of the portrait hole. He started mumbling to himself about how odd that had all seemed when another house elf stopped and pointed.

"Harry Potter's father, James Potter," the house elf said before rushing off.

Dobby's big round eyes widened - maybe Harry was going to be happy like Dobby after all!

* * *

He heard her walking up the steps of the Quidditch stands long before he felt her shadow. She sat on the bench above the one he was sprawled out on and put her sandal-clad shoes up, near his stomach.

He kept his eyes closed while he talked. "The house elves were kind enough to give me food since I've managed to miss every meal since I've arrived here. I remembered to tickle the pear on the painting. Poppy told me to get some fresh air this morning, so here I am. I thought about going for a walk, through the Forbidden Forest." He opened his eyes and looked up to her. "But I thought it wiser to wait for that for when I get my wand back."

Erica's eyes were squinted due to the sun, but never the less, James could see she was pleased. "I do hope you'll wait for a wand before venturing into the _Forbidden_ Forest, not that it ever stopped you before."

James grinned. "Sirius and I? We used to get in trouble all the time, didn't we? He was amazing. I remember."

James sat up and faced her, his eyes lit with excitement. "Sirius Black. He lived with me for a while, we were best mates. We did everything together. We pulled pranks on everyone and got in trouble…we had detentions all the time…I cleaned more trophies than most people clean fish in a lifetime."

Erica laughed. "That is probably true. You two, and your other best friends, were always getting in trouble - or doing something that _should_ have gotten you in trouble."

James sighed, staring off into the clouds. "Sirius helped me get Lily."

"Did he?"

"Yeah…so did…so did my other friends. They made me realize what a prat I was to her. She told me she'd rather date the giant squid in the lake than date me once…I never realized I was such a wanker to her."

"I remember that," Erica laughed. "She said that to you outside in front of everyone. You and the rest of the Marauder's were picking on Snape, as usual, and she told you to stop."

James looked at her. "Snape? The Marauders?"

Erica swallowed. "Either of those ring a bell?"

James turned to face the pitch. "Quidditch."

"You remember?"

"No, I went into the locker room and looked around this morning and then went to the library."

"How'd you know what to look up?" Erica asked, curious to how his mind was working.

He shrugged. "I don't know, really. I just walked down the aisles…looking at all the books. I played, I was…I was the team captain, wasn't I?"

Erica smiled. "You were."

"Erica?"

"Yes?"

"I have so many questions."

"I know, James."

"Can I ask you some of them? Will you answer?"

"I'll…I'll try, James. You know why I can't answer them all. You're doing fine without anyone to answer them, anyway," she smiled. "You're remembering so much by just being here."

"Still…"

"Go on, then, ask me," Erica told him as she moved down and sat next to him.

"Sirius and I…we were best friends. We had two other friends and we called ourselves the…Marauders…that's what you meant by that, right?"

"The four of you were the biggest trouble makers this school had ever seen."

"I was close to the other two, right? Just not as close as I was to Sirius."

"I suppose so; I never knew any of you that well. I talked to one of your friends a few times, admired you and Sirius from afar," she winked at him.

"Werewolves really exist, don't they?"

Erica didn't answer right away. The more she thought about this, the more she talked with James or watched him, the more confused she became. She was walking blindly and leading the blind at the same time.

"Yes, they do, James, but not necessarily in the way that Muggles perceive."

"I know that," James nodded, standing up. He started pacing in front of her.

"Lily was the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid my eyes on. Next to my mother, I never respected a woman so much. I can't remember everything I want to about her- but I can see her, Erica. I can _see_ her beautiful red hair and her soft skin…she was your height…and the green I keep seeing? The green that's always been in my dreams?" James knelt down next to Erica. "Her eyes…I can see her gorgeous emerald eyes as clear as day. I can feel her hand in mine…" James held his wavering hand in front of him. He stood up and began pacing again.

"She was always yelling at Sirius and me…for all the pranks we did…I can hear her voice. I can hear her laughing with my mum…her and my mum telling Sirius and I to behave…she…had the softest lips…"

Erica discreetly wiped away the tear before it began to fall. These weren't her memories, but the power in which James was remembering them with was overwhelming her.

"She was pretty close to one of my friends. They studied together a lot…Sirius and I were always in trouble. He was a werewolf."

Erica looked up at him. He'd stopped pacing and was staring off into the distance. She watched as his gaze landed on the Whomping Willow. He turned and looked at her with his own tears welling up in his eyes.

She nodded. "Yes." Her voice was shaky and barely audible.

"Do I still posses magic, Erica?"

"I…well, I'm sure you do. We…we aren't sure, James…we don't know what happened…we don't know how you managed to survive that night and what might have happened as a result of it."

"How do we find out? Why don't you know already?" James looked at her impatiently.

"Do you…remember any magic?" She asked him.

He pursed his lips as he thought, the summery breeze flapping his hair around.

"I know that if I had a wand in my hand, I would."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because Remus Lupin was the first person that ever told me that no one would be able to stop James Potter from getting what he wants," James answered. "And Remus Lupin never told a lie in his life."

* * *

Harry felt an odd sensation as he pulled the weeds from his aunt's flowerbed. He felt like he was being watched. He sat up and looked around the yard, down the street, across the bushes - but saw nothing.

A little worried, he stood up, feeling for his wand. It was in his pocket, right were it was supposed to be. He slowly edged his way to the sidewalk and peered down the street once more.

He wasn't about to make the same mistake as the summer before and find himself in an alley with dementors. A horrible thought occurred to him, one that he'd pushed from his mind all summer long.

Just how safe was he here?

His heart started thumping and he started to back up the driveway, still looking up and down the street. Anything, any_one_ could find him here. It's not as if the house was hidden or anything. What if Voldemort found the house? What if Death Eater's showed up?

He jumped a mile in the air when he backed into the car. He pulled his wand out ready to jinx whatever it was he'd run into.

"Merlin, Harry, a little jumpy?" A voice came from the side of the house. "Not bad, you looked almost everywhere, but right next to you."

"Remus?" Harry's eyes widened as he looked at his last connection to his parents. He didn't like counting Petunia.

Remus smiled, his graying hair seeming grayer than the last time Harry had seen him. His blue eyes were lit up at the moment as he looked over Harry.

"At least they're feeding you."

"What- why are you…"

Remus chuckled. "I flew ahead of the others. I wanted a few minutes alone with you, Harry. The rest are coming; we're taking you back."

"I don't want to go there," Harry's eyes darkened as he kicked some loose pebbles about with his shoe.

Remus nodded. "I understand that you feel that way, Harry. He never wanted to go back either…but he did. He…he left you almost every-"

"I don't want it, Remus. I don't want him to have _left_ me anything! I don't deserve anything!"

Harry wanted nothing more than to break down in tears. He wanted nothing more than for comforting arms to hold him, to rock him back and forth and tell him things would be okay. But there was no one to do that for him…

He looked up to Remus and saw the pain in his old Professor's eyes. Remus was hurting too, he knew. Everything that Harry had lost, Remus had lost as well.

"Harry…I'd like to talk," Remus said quietly, walking closer to him.

Harry turned his head down and looked at his shoes. "My aunt and uncle aren't going to be happy to find another wizard out here with me. I'm supposed to be pulling the weeds from the flower garden."

Remus shrugged in a teenage way. "Let them come out here and find me, Harry. I don't care."

"Is it still the Order's headquarters?"

"Yes," Remus sighed.

"Is Kreacher still there?" Harry asked, with a disgusted look on his face.

Remus bit his lower lip as the two heard faint pops from the side of the house. "Harry, you should go and gather your things."

Harry just looked at Remus as he saw the familiar faces of Order members appearing. Harry gave Remus a questioning look - a look filled with all the questions and worries he'd had all summer long.

Remus half smiled at him. "Go on, get your stuff. We'll go talk to your aunt and uncle while we wait. We'll have plenty of time to talk later, Harry. There's so much we need to talk about."

Harry started to take a step and stopped. Looking back to the ground, he mumbled. "What if I don't want to talk, Remus?"

"Harry?"

Harry lifted his head with a glare that made Remus take a step back. There was such hurt and misery in his eyes that made Remus want to pull him close and comfort him. His green eyes were so dead, not dazzling like Lily's had always been. Remus ached for Harry to know that feeling, that feeling of those emerald specks on him…to know what it was like to be in the presence of his father. Remus reached out a hand, but stopped. Instead, he sighed.

"Go get your things, Harry," Remus repeated as Mad-Eye Moody walked over.

Harry simply nodded, defeated for the time being and walked into the house. He saw out of the corner of his eye that Remus, Moody and a few others were headed for the house too. Harry glanced down the hall and saw Petunia in the kitchen. Vernon was still at work and Dudley was still roaming the streets as he always did during the summer months.

He sighed and started up the stairs just as he heard a knock on the front door.

He quietly rushed up the steps and around the corner to where he could peer down and watch.

"Harry! Who's at the door? Why would you just-" She stopped in the middle of her mumbling the moment she opened the door and saw the witches and wizards on her doorstep. "Y-y-yes?"

"We're here to take Harry with us," Remus nodded curtly.

Petunia nodded, gripping the door so tight her knuckles were turning white. She looked from one wizard to another, her eyes resting on Remus again.

"You," she said hoarsely and pointed at him. "You knew…you knew my sister, didn't you?"

Remus paled a bit, having only met Petunia once when Lily was still alive. He nodded.

"H-harry's going through…a rough time, right now, isn't he?" Petunia asked, with what Remus thought looked like a genuine concern on her face.

The rest of the Order members stepped back, allowing Remus and Petunia some privacy in the doorway. Remus glanced to the top of the stairs and saw Harry peeking around the corner. He smiled before looking back at Petunia and answering.

"He is. Petunia, I'm not sure what Dumbledore has ever told you and I know you never cared for any of us, but Harry is still your blood and he's still, aside from your son, all you have left of your family. He's a sixteen year old boy who's going through more than most people our age. Either way you look at it, he needs some love."

"I gave him my father's pocket watch for his birthday…" Petunia muttered, her eyes glassy. "He wanted the first born grandson to have it, but I thought…Lily had always loved it. I thought Harry would appreciate it more than Dudley."

The corners of Remus's mouth arched up. "That's generous of you, Petunia. It's a start anyway."

"A start?" Petunia's eyes widened with anger. "I've taken care of him since I found him on my doorstep! I've allowed him food and clothing and shelter in MY house! I gave him what he _needed_ to survive. He's an embarrassment to my family! Have you ever looked at his _hair_? He's unruly!"

"You never gave him a chance!" Remus argued back. "You never gave him the _love_ that every child deservers! Just because you didn't like what Lily turned out to be! What? Where you just jealous of her? So you take it out on her surviving _son_? An innocent in all of this? Harry never asked for anything, Petunia! He's never even asked you for what he's really needed all along!"

Petunia, with a sudden jolt of courage, stood straight and glared at Remus. "You will NOT come to my house and speak to me this way."

"Or what?"

"I don't have to take him back next summer," Petunia threatened.

"Maybe you won't have to," Remus seethed. "I wouldn't want him to have to come back, if it wasn't for the damn charm he _wouldn't_ come back. He has one more summer with you, Petunia, and if you so much as _look_ at him wrong, you will have to deal with me."

Remus turned from the doorway and joined the rest of the members who were standing guard in the front yard. Petunia stayed at the doorway, glaring at her sister's life in front of her.

Harry bounded down the stairs with the first smile he wore all summer long. He was carrying Hedwig's cage and pulling his trunk as if they were both light as a feather.

He grinned at Petunia as he pushed passed her. He winked and whispered. "He's a werewolf, you know. Turns real ugly every full moon. Bad temper, too."

Harry didn't look back once he joined the Order members there to escort him. Tonks smiled at him and ruffled his hair while Moody started to bark out orders on flying. They would be flying a similar formation as they had the year before, with Harry surrounded by everyone.

As Kingsley Shacklebolt nodded the okay and they all mounted their brooms, Harry looked over at a still fuming Remus and smiled.

Even with all that he hated in the world and how lost and alone he felt - he knew that he never was.

* * *

James stood in front of the portrait with the Fat Lady in it. She was busy singing to herself, as no one else was listening, and didn't notice him. He waited patiently for her to finish her song before he cleared his throat.

"Oh- I didn't see you there, deary. Passwo-" The Fat Lady started out with a smile as she settled into her duties, until she looked at James.

James smiled. "As the school year hasn't actually started, I was sort of hoping that maybe I could get in anyways. It's been a real long time."

"You…you…" the Fat Lady couldn't seem to say anything. Her stuttering captured the attention of some of the portraits around her and they came bounding towards her to find out what was going on.

James sighed. "Yes. I…I'm James Potter. I'm alive, not near as dead as everyone thought me to be."

If it was possible for a painting to pale, the fat lady would have right then. Mummers and whispers traveled down the hall and James rolled his eyes.

"None of you have noticed me roaming about in the past few days?" He asked the paintings.

"You just…you look so-"

"James! There you are!" Tiffany came running down the hall to him. "I've been looking all over for you." She glanced around at all the paintings and shuttered. "Can we go…outside or something? This kind of gives me the creeps."

James swallowed. "Tiff, I really want to go inside here…it's…I used to stay in here when I attended Hogwarts."

"No entry without the password," the Fat Lady suddenly found her voice, insulted at being called creepy.

James sighed and looked at Tiffany. "Where's Albus?"

"I don't know. James?" Tiffany's voice got smaller as the two began walking down the hall.

"Yeah?" James replied absentmindedly. He hardly noticed anymore that Tiffany was calling him James now. It just seemed so right.

"Can we talk?" Tiffany stopped walking and looked at him. She looked as if she was about to start crying.

"Tiffany, what's wrong?" James looked at her, worried.

She grabbed his hand and led him down the remaining stairs to the doors that led outside. She walked them under a tree and pulled him down to sit on the grass with her.

He hadn't taken his eyes of her, but she was looking everywhere but to him.

Staring towards the castle, Tiffany sniffed before starting. "I-I'm…I'm going home. Today. Actually, in just a little while. I don't belong here and you don't need me here, so I'm going back and I'll leave you to…to," she choked on her own words. "To do what it is that James Potter would do."

James just stared at her in shock before a smile slowly formed on his face, "This is a joke, right? Tiff, you can't just leave like that. Aw, come on. Let's go find Albus and get the password for the Gryffindor Tower. I want to see it again, and show you. It's where I lived when I went to school here. I can remember-"

"I'm not kidding," Tiffany finally looked him in the eyes. His 'grey' eyes searched her face for a sign that she _was_ kidding.

"Look," Tiffany took a deep breath. She stared at her hands as she spoke. "See, the thing is…I'm happy for you. I mean, you've wanted nothing more in the last fifteen years than to get your old life back and here it is. And it's this amazing and surreal life. And it is so obvious that you belong here, you remember things. You're remembering things so easily every day, more and more. You're surrounded by people who have loved you for so long, for so long before you disappeared, and missed you, and loved you while you were gone and they still love you, and they will always love you. And you need to finish finding the answers to all your questions, and you don't need me for that. You don't need me anymore, Evan. James. James…"

James just stared at her, unsure of what to say. He was having trouble understanding what she was trying to say.

"I need you…I _want_ you, Tiffany. I…I don't want to do this alone," he whispered.

Tiffany looked up at him again. "You're not alone, James. You have so many incredible beings around you."

"But I need you," he whispered again.

She shook her head, "I talked this over with Erica and Albus. They told me things, James. They told me a lot. I know more about you than what you've managed to remember yet…and when you do remember…your life will be so full of so many wonderful things…" She looked out into the distance. "All I would do is hold you back. I'd hold you to a life and a world that doesn't need you like this one does, James. Not like the world in which you belong. You're needed here so desperately."

"What about what I want?" James grabbed her hands, forcing her to look at him again. "What about what I fucking want? Does that matter to anyone? Does anyone really understand or realize what the hell I am going through? I lost _fifteen_ years of a life that I am just now starting to remember, and in those lost fifteen years I began a new life. I'm not who I once was – at all. I…I have no idea _who_ I am anymore. I'm thirty six years old and I have no idea who I am or what I'm doing and the one person that I have is leaving me?"

"Don't say it like that," Tiffany didn't hold back the tears. "You were a gift from God to me that night that I found you, Evan Gryffin. I was so lost and I so badly needed someone to hold on to, someone to hold _me_. And we had something in common, we were outcasts. We had no one else, no pasts, and no clear future – just each other. Do you want the honest truth? I secretly wished since that night that you would never find your past!"

Tiffany's tears were streaming down her face as her temper flared.

"I needed you to my self, Evan! I needed you more than I needed a breath of fresh air. But I put that aside all those years of helping you. I exhausted all possibilities that I could help you with to find your past, even though it was my worst fear. I helped you because I loved you and it killed me every day to see you so lost."

She stopped and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Her eyes slanted as she continued. "And then the other day happened. I mean, come on, Evan, _magic_? Of all the things in the world for you to have been, I had to accept not only that you had finally found your life, but that you were a real life wizard and that this whole…_other world_ existed. And that this world is where you _belong_. Not me. I'm not a wizard or a witch or whatever the hell I would be if I did possess magic. I don't. And you do. And we don't belong together."

"What?" James gaped at her. "We don't _belong together_? Are you even realizing what you're saying? After every thing…after all that we've had and been through together, you're going to let it all go because I'm a fucking _wizard_?"

Tiffany stood. "No, not because you're a wizard, _James_. Because we are two completely different people and we don't go together. The things we had in common? They were interest and hobbies – now they aren't. It's me fascinated with your life, and I can't do that. I have to live _my_ life just as well as you have to live yours. And they're separate lives."

James rose to his feet as well and pleaded with her. "Tiffany, stop. Stop, please. I need you. I can't do this alone…I can't do this without you…"

"You can't do it with me tagging along," she said quietly, looking out towards the lake.

James started shaking his head. He kept shaking it, violently almost, as he backed away from her.

"This isn't happening. This isn't happening! Why? Why did this have to happen to me, Tiffany?"

Tiffany looked toward him, the tears flowing like a rampage river.

"Why did I have to lose everything? Why did I have to lose everything but my _life_? I wasn't even allowed to have my memory! And then I get it _back_? I get pieces of my life back, not all of it, but I can't even keep what I have now? Why the hell didn't I just die like I was supposed to that night?" James turned and ran.

He turned and ran away from everything that he knew.

* * *

As usual, Harry found another sleepless night before him. He had been tossing and turning for what felt like hours while Ron slept in the nearby bed snoring. It wasn't Ron's snoring that was keeping him awake; it was being in the house.

The house that had once been the home of Sirius Black.

His arrival had been nothing less of an extravagant welcoming. The Weasley's had been over-joyed to see him again, his friends ecstatic. He'd done his best to paint on the face of happiness, but it was so hard. It was so hard to be here, in this house that he didn't deserve to be in. In this house that held more memories than he'd ever get to know.

Harry cursed Snape as he rolled over again. He tossed his head another direction and cursed Dumbledore. He moved flat on his back and cursed Voldemort. With a sigh, Harry sat up in bed and cursed his self.

He grabbed his glasses and quietly left the room. Hardly breathing so he wouldn't wake anyone, Harry crept around the silent and dark house. He paused outside the room in which Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were sleeping in, wordlessly thanking them for all the kind things they had ever done for him.

He stopped again outside the room where Hermione and Ginny were sleeping. He briefly let a smile tease his solemn face, thinking of the friendships he cherished with them. It had been quite amusing, after his arrival, being around his friends again. Ron was eternally blushing when Hermione would be near him, but he always took Harry's side on everything. When Hermione wanted him to talk, Ron stuck up for him.

He was thankful for that, for Ron sticking up for him and for Hermione wanting to pressure him to talk.

But he couldn't. He couldn't talk and he couldn't thank them, either. He'd put his friends in danger only months ago. Simply because they cared about him too much and refused to let him go alone. Go alone, to some place that he hadn't needed to even go.

Harry kept going and found his feet stopping outside the room that Buckbeak had stayed in the last time Harry had been here. He put his ear to the door to listen for a sign that he was still there, but heard nothing.

With a curious and worried expression framing his face, Harry slowly opened the door. It was dark in the room. And there was no sign of the Hippogriff.

Puzzled, Harry entered the room and shut the door behind him. He saw the bed that had once been Buckbeak's. He saw the remains of food and water lying about as well.

"Everything's gone…" Harry muttered, curling up in a ball under the window.

Too busy wallowing in his own self-pity, Harry didn't notice the shadow in the corner of the room.

* * *

He ran until he was out of breath. He leaned down, trying to breathe and realized he'd ended up in the Quidditch pitch. It was nearing evening and starting to get dark. He looked around and saw that no one had followed him.

With a determined look on his face, James walked to the locker rooms. He thrust opened the door and looked around for a light.

_Of course_, he thought, _they don't use light _switches_, they use fire and wands and spells._ He sighed, squinting to see in the dark. He saw what appeared to be a broomstick and grabbed it.

He stalked back out to the pitch and stared at the broom. He had no idea what he was doing, but the feel of the broom felt so right to him. He closed his eyes, _willing_ memories of riding to come back to him. He tried to picture the game of Quidditch, the stands full of students and him soaring above the crowds.

He pictured her face. He pictured the wind blowing her red strands around her angelic face. He could see her laughing, green eyes smiling at him, urging him to do what he knew, in his blood and heart, to do.

And then he could feel her. He felt her warm embrace, her smooth and cool hands, so small and delicate, yet full of life, fit perfectly into his. Her loving touch as her arms wrapped around him and made him feel at peace.

James dropped the broomstick to the ground, just to the side of him. He was so enraptured with the memories of Lily that he consciously knew not of what he was doing. He took a deep breath as the wind picked up around him.

A young version of Lily, hair in pigtails, was standing across from him on an overcast day, early in the fall. Nervousness and excitement bounced in the air around them. Next to him, a boy with slick dark hair and an adventurous expression chuckled as he poked James. James smiled at Lily, whose eyes were wide, staring down at the broom.

She looked up to the boys, hearing their chuckles. It was the first time James really noticed her eyes. They stood out so much, sparkled and danced in front of him, yet they were clear, just like the bright blue specks of his mothers.

James opened his own eyes and stuck his arm out over the broom.

"Up," he spoke with a strong and sure voice. With no hesitation, the broom flew up to his grip and James wrapped his fingers around it tightly, not wanting to let go for anything.

He threw a leg over and mounted. He looked to the darkening sky where the first glimmer of the stars was beginning to show.

He had a lump in his throat and paused.

_What if I can't do this_? James licked his dry lips and repositioned himself on the broom.

_No…I _can_ do this. I was meant to do this._

James closed his eyes and kicked off the ground.

* * *

A squeak of the floor boards brought Harry to attention. He stared into the darkened corner where the noise had come from.

He glared, his face growing red and hot, his temper beginning to flare.

"Oh, if the Mistress knew of the terrible visitors in her house again. If she knew the one who stopped the Dark Lord was in her house again. The Mudblood and the traitors…"

Harry stood to attention quickly. He grabbed at his wand as he continued glaring at the house elf.

His quick and sudden movement caught Kreacher's attention and the house elf stopped and looked at Harry.

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here." Harry seethed through cursed lips.

"Kreacher is cleaning the Mistress's house. Kreacher lives to serve the noble house-"

Harry screamed and blasted a light out of his wand. A light whirled past Kreacher, forcing the house elf to jump back slightly.

"YOU DON'T BELONG HERE! There _is_ no noble house of Black! There are no Black's left _alive_!" Harry yelled.

"The boy with the scar has lost it, just like old master. Mistress would be so upset. Oh, what would Mistress say-?"

"NOTHING! She's _dead_, just like the rest of the family! No thanks to _you_!" Harry took a few steps towards the house elf, his narrow eyes focusing on the short green creature.

"Harry?" Came a voice from the hallway. "Harry, what's going on?"

"It's all his fault!" Harry cried, pointing his wand at Kreacher.

Just then, Remus and Mr. Weasley burst open the door. "Harry! Stop!" Remus ran to Harry and grabbed his wand. Mr. Weasley looked between the violently shaking Harry and the house elf that had backed into the wall.

"Kreacher, go to the kitchen," Mr. Weasley commanded.

"Arthur? What's going on? Is everything okay?" Mrs. Weasley could be heard from down the hall.

"Harry? Mum, what's going on?" Ron asked, trying to get past his mother.

"Not now, Ron, go back to bed," Mr. Weasley came out of Mrs. Black's room and shut the door behind him. "Remus is with Harry right now."

"He's my mate!" Ron argued.

"Ronald Weasley! Bed!" Molly pointed to Ron's room.

Ron glared at his parents and sulked back to his room.

Back in Buckbeak's old room, Remus had his arms wrapped around Harry who was shaking so badly, Remus could hardly hold on to him.

"Harry," Remus said his name in a quiet and soothing voice. "Calm down, Harry."

"Why is he still here?" Harry asked in a voice barely audible.

Remus swallowed. "I'm sorry, Harry. He was supposed to have stayed in here…I didn't think of you coming up here. At least not yet."

Harry stepped out of Remus's grasp. "Where's Buckbeak? What'd you do with Buckbeak?"

"Calm down, Harry," Remus told him. "Buckbeak is safe. I promise."

Harry kicked the wall. "Promises don't mean anything."

"They do if you hold them true," Remus's voice fell to a whisper.

"But promises can be broken," Harry replied.

"Not if they're true promises. Promises with meaning behind them."

Harry looked over to Remus. "He swore with you that he was your friend and he betrayed all of you."

Remus nodded. "And not a day goes by that I don't think of that, Harry. Not a day goes by that I don't think about Sirius. In over fifteen years, there hasn't been a day that I haven't thought of your parents. But we have to keep going, Harry. We have to keep going and living. We need to keep fighting. For them; so that all that they gave up isn't lost and forgotten. That they didn't give their lives for nothing."

"I can't do it, Remus," Harry whispered, looking out the window. "I can't handle this."

"Dumbledore wants you to talk to someone, Harry," Remus said.

Harry turned his head quickly and looked at Remus. "Talk to someone?"

Remus sighed and nodded. "I went to school with her. She's the best out there and she's easy to talk to."

"I'm not crazy!" Harry protested. "I don't need a shrink!"

"Harry, you said it yourself, you have a lot to handle," Remus took a few steps closer to him and glanced out the window as well. "You've lived through too much for any sixteen year old. You've lived through too much for anyone to have to go through. And you have an extra weight on your shoulders, Harry." Remus looked at the fuming boy. "You need to talk to someone, Harry, and if you can't talk to anyone close to you, then you're going to have to talk to this woman."

"You can't make me," Harry fumed.

"No, I can't," Remus sighed. "But I think it would help if you tried."

"I don't want to."

"Please, Harry?" Remus pleaded, an aching look upon his face. "For them?"

Harry glared at Remus, hating how he brought his parents and Sirius into it. He didn't need to talk to a doctor. He didn't need to talk to anyone. He said he couldn't handle it…but he could. He could…

Harry nodded his head slowly, a single tear falling down a cheek as Remus gathered the suddenly small young man into his arms for a comforting hug that Harry had needed all summer.

As the sun rose, Harry headed back to the room he was sharing with Ron. He found three pairs of eyes on him as he entered, all curious and worried.

"Harry?" Hermione rose from where she was sitting on the bed.

Harry shut the door behind him and sat on his bed, facing his friends. He sighed and played with the pocket watch his aunt had given him only days before on his birthday.

"Remus says that Dumbledore wants me to see a shrink, talk to her and stuff," Harry finally spoke.

"A shrink?" Ron asked, flabbergasted at the idea. "You don't need a shrink, Harry, you've got us."

"I think it's a good idea," the ever-levelheaded Hermione suggested. "I think it would do you good, Harry, to talk to someone who's trained to help you."

Harry stared at her for a moment before replying. "Trained to help me? It sounds so…"

"So stupid," Ron spat. Ron faced Hermione. "He's got us to talk to. We're the ones that have helped him all along. We're his friends."

"But we don't know any more than Harry does, Ron," Hermione argued. "Talking to a psychiatrist could help Harry learn how to put things in perspective and how to handle all the pressure he feels he's under."

"Who said he's under pressure?"

"Ron!" Ginny spoke up. "Stop being such a prat and try being a friend to Harry already."

"I _am_ in the room," Harry said quietly, looking across the room to his friends arguing over him. He sighed as the looks on his their faces fell and they all seemed ashamed. "Look, I told Remus I'd do it. I told him I'd see her. He said he went to school with her; she was a couple years younger than him and Sirius and my parents. He said that she's the best."

"You'll be okay, Harry," Hermione reassured him.

"When do you have to start seeing her?" Ron asked.

"Tomorrow," Harry said, lying back on his bed.

"Harry, would you like us to leave you alone so you can get some sleep?" Ginny asked him with a caring expression.

He smiled. "Yeah, thanks."

"We'll talk to you later then, Harry," Hermione followed Ginny out of the room.

"We can play some Quidditch or something later, mate," Ron suggested, following the two girls out.

"Yeah…" Harry nodded and said to the empty room. He turned over to face the wall and wondered if he was ready for anything. He just wanted to feel okay. No, he wanted to feel better than okay, he wanted to feel better than fine. He wanted to honestly feel without a hole in his heart.

* * *

James shifted and reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes. He pushed his glasses back to their proper spot and yawned, opening his eyes to the dawning day.

He gasped, forgetting momentarily where he was. He reached out and held on to the structure he was sitting on before realizing where he'd spent the night.

He smiled as he took in a deep breath of the fresh morning air. He had done it. He was still a wizard with magical powers. He had flown.

And he had flown for hours once he realized that he was in the air. The feel of the wind lapping at his face, the freeness he felt with the world below him, the clouds at his reach had been beyond exhilarating. He could go anywhere, do anything, and be what he wanted when he was in the sky.

It hadn't taken him long to feel confident enough to try tricks on the broom, and before long, he was whizzing around, up and down, sideways, doing flips and twirls. He raced over the small waves of the lake and hovered over the majestic forest.

When the night had been born, he wasn't ready to get off the broom and he explored the stars as if he were on a night ship sailing to the moon.

Eventually he had gotten tired and he landed on a high tower of the castle, a flat area where he could rest for a while before heading back.

He hadn't said goodbye to Tiffany. He didn't understand why she wanted to leave him, what exactly had driven her away. He couldn't bring himself to face her again, not yet. And he didn't want to see Erica, Albus, or any of the rest of the Wizarding people he knew; he wanted answers and they weren't going to give him any.

His last thoughts before finally drifting off to sleep had been questioning what he had done in his previous life to deem such punishment. Could he have possibly been such a terrible person, or committed such awful crimes that he deserved to lose everything he cared about and then have it dangled in front of him?

His thoughts hurried back to these as he admired the rising sun over the crystal lake and lush grounds of Hogwarts.

He was still missing so many pieces of this puzzle of his life. Those he was around had them; those he was around knew what he wanted to know. Why couldn't they just tell him? Why didn't they think he was strong enough to handle the facts? Why didn't they understand that in order for him to feel better than just fine, he needed the missing pieces?

He stood and stretched. It was another day and another chance at regaining something back.

And first on that list was to obtain a damn wand.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore had seen many strange, upsetting and wonderful events over the course of his life. He had an exceptional pleasure in being able to understand the ways of the universe and felt extremely lucky to hold the patience and knowledge of being wise.

This, however, was probably the most nerve wracking situation he'd ever been in. He almost thought that fighting Grindelwald had been simpler and less stressful.

Of course, telling Remus Lupin that James Potter was in fact alive and well was only half the situation, there was still telling Harry Potter.

Dumbledore hadn't slept a wink the night before. He was worried about James, the lost man flying about the sky like a falling star all evening. He was worried about Harry and how the child with the weight of the world was handling being back at the Black's residence. He was worried about Voldemort, or Tom Riddle, and what he was planning, his next move, and his next step.

Albus Dumbledore was just a very worried old wizard at the moment. And with all of his pacing and internal thoughts hackling at him, he didn't realize Remus Lupin had walked into his office, right on time, as the man always had managed.

Remus cleared his throat to get his old Headmaster's attention. Dumbledore stopped and gave the man a weary smile.

"Remus. I'm sorry; I didn't hear you come in. Thank you for coming, and at such a late request," Dumbledore sat behind his desk, nodding for Remus to take a chair.

"Of course, Albus. Is there…something wrong?" Remus asked hesitantly, worried of why Dumbledore called him to his office early that morning. He hadn't thought too much of it; if it had been something Order related he had figured Dumbledore would have called for a meeting. How it was, though, Remus was beginning to feel edgy and worried.

Dumbledore stared off at nothing for a moment before replying. He knew that he needed to take a delicate and well planned approach in explaining recent events to this strong, yet hurt man.

"Remus, tell me, how is Harry exactly?" Dumbledore asked.

Remus sighed. "Not well, as expected. He's taking things very hard, Albus. He blames himself for Sirius and I feel that he's feeling the burden of the prophecy on top of the losses."

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "This is why I feel it appropriate that he talk to Erica, especially before the start of term. He will have much more to deal with upon his return here."

Remus nodded. "Yes, I expect that many of the Slytherins, specifically Draco Malfoy and his lot won't make things easy on Harry. He's also still a sixteen year old boy going into his sixth year. That's not very easy for anyone."

Dumbledore smiled. "Being a sixteen year old boy going into his sixth year at Hogwarts will be something that will roll off Harry Potter's shoulders, Remus. Whether or not he had the privilege to be raised in the environment in which we both wish he could have been, with his loving parents and family friends, he still obtains the very traits he should have received from them."

Remus arched his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, Professor, could you explain that?"

"You see, Remus, Harry comes from a family of very smart and intellectual wizards. Both of his parents were at ease with the normality of life's issues, the very reason they chose to pursue the hardships they did. And you, Sirius, even Peter and others were a part of that world as well. Harry's first year of life was enough for those traits to be instilled into him. Life and the universe work in very strange ways that we, as mere inhabitants, can't begin to fathom or understand."

Remus nodded, not truly understanding Dumbledore's words. "Right, and what does this have to do with anything, sir?"

Dumbledore rose from his chair and walked around the desk. He stopped and admired Fawkes for a moment.

"There is more to what Harry is about to embark on than you know, Remus. And I fear that you may not be the guide in this that you wish to be."

Remus just looked at him, unable to respond to that. Remus wanted nothing more than to be something to Harry, something important, a figure in his life that he needed.

"I have this fear, Mr. Lupin, because one thing that Harry is about to face, you must face as well. It is a very joyful experience, a very relieving idea…but not an event that can be taken light heartedly. It raises more questions than it answers."

Remus stood up, his face wrinkled in question. "What are trying to tell me, Albus?"

Dumbledore turned to face Remus. At once, Remus noticed the dark circles under the Headmaster's eyes. He noticed the newly formed wrinkles in the old man's face from worry and concern, but he also noticed that the twinkle always held behind those half-moon shaped glasses was glistening like Remus couldn't remember.

"I have no other way to tell you than to just say it, Remus," Dumbledore smiled. "A very dear friend of yours that was thought to have been gone, is, indeed, not gone at all."

Remus's heart stopped briefly as images of Sirius flashed before him. Could it be true?

"But, sir, Sirius fell through-"

"It is not Mr. Black," Dumbledore informed him.

"Pettigrew?" Remus spat, not understanding.

"No, Remus," Dumbledore took a step closer to him. "The friend I speak of has been thought dead for almost fifteen years. The man I speak of has the power to change a lot of things…"

Remus's already pale face grew whiter as he fell slowly back into his chair. His breathing was short and raspy as he stared wide-eyed at the wizard before him.

"He lost his memory that night," Dumbledore went on. "He's been searching all this time for something he didn't believe existed. He was found only days ago and we brought him back here. He's already regaining his memory, now that it's been triggered. He remembers you."

"It can't be true…but…but…how…" Remus had a glossy and dazed look about him. "This is a joke…it's a horrible prank being played by _him_…"

"No, Remus," Dumbledore looked Remus in the eyes. "One of your closest friends, James Potter – is alive."

Remus laid a hand over his heart and shut his eyes.

* * *

**_...huggles n cookies..._**

**_...missers... _**


	7. Riders On the Storm

**Chapter Seven – Riders on the Storm**

The smile on Dumbledore's face faded as he worriedly stepped closer to Remus. The man looked as though he were having trouble breathing; he was clutching his heart, eyes closed and his breathing was raspy and uneven. With him being paler than normal and sweat forming on his forehead, Dumbledore thought the worst.

"Remus?" Dumbledore reached to touch the weary man.

Remus's eyes popped open with the call of his name. He swallowed and just stared at his old headmaster.

"Remus, can you understand me? Are you alright? Should I call for Poppy?"

"No." Remus shook his head. "No, don't call Poppy and no, I'm not all right. How is someone alright when they've just found out one of their best mates they've ever had is alive, after almost fifteen years of dealing with grief over his death? What about…"

Dumbledore frowned. "No, I'm sorry. We are lucky enough to have two survivors of that night, Remus. Had she…survived…the charm on Harry would have never worked."

Remus nodded. He let his hand fall to the arm of the chair and looked to the window. The sun was streaming in, giving the feeling of a glorious day. Who was he to argue? James was alive! James Potter, one of the most selfless people Remus had ever met in his life, the father of the boy who needed love so desperately, was alive to give that love. James could clear Sirius…

"What does he remember?" Remus looked at Dumbledore.

"Not much, in relative terms. He's working on things, Remus. Erica is working very closely with him. It's been decided that we will let him remember things and only offer information that will trigger his mind. We still have no idea how he managed to survive that night, what powers he still possesses, if he possesses any thing above what he once did…it's too early to tell anything. We can't answer many of his questions because we only have so many ourselves. He's not the James we once knew, but that James is still, by far, there. He's still temperamental in the most conceited way," Dumbledore smiled. "He remembers Lily. And yesterday he remembered Sirius and you. He also, out of rage and an overwhelming desire, flew for the first time in years."

Remus was speechless.

"No one, outside of who is here now, knows about him, Remus, and we've decided to keep it that way until he does remember a sufficient amount. Time will only tell us what the future will hold."

"Of course. When will you tell…when will Harry be able to find out?"

"After James remembers him. It's the part I'm most worried about," Dumbledore sat back down behind his desk. "The meeting of them will be the most torture on the hearts."

"Torture? It'll be the happiest day of Harry's life."

"Perhaps in looking back it may be, but I fear that he won't take it that way instantaneously. You obviously haven't," Albus pointed out.

Remus started to open his mouth but stopped to think. He _was_ happy. He was ecstatic that James was alive. But…he was also hesitant. He was worried, too, and had mixed emotions. Fifteen years was a long time to be absent. This was more complicated than he first thought.

"So he's here, then?"

"For now," Dumbledore nodded. "He'll remain here until the start of term at which time we'll move him elsewhere. He'll be under watch until we feel that he is capable of handling himself alone in the Wizarding world again."

"Erica is talking to him, you said? Isn't she starting to see Harry today?"

"Yes. Erica is talking to James. She's one of the few that James immediately took a trust to right from the start. His mind, not unlike our own, is very complicated. He remembers things and he knows everything that he needs and wants to know. His subconscious, for some reason, is withholding that information from his conscious mind. This is evident in the fact that it only took Rosmerta to call him by his real name for him to believe it. While his friend scoffed at the idea of a wizard, James took offence to her calling our kind 'freaks', something that James Potter was always sensitive to in defense to Lily. By the next morning, he knew without a doubt that it was true and that he was, in fact, James Potter. He knew me; he knew things about me without realizing he did. He didn't fight when he woke up here at the castle, and the more he interacts with his surroundings, the more he remembers."

"Can I…may I…?" Remus started, still filled with shock and anxiety to actually finish the question.

"Yes, you may see him," Dumbledore smiled. "I was hoping that you would ask that."

"Where is he?"

Dumbledore winked. "I have a feeling he might have joined the others for breakfast for the first time. Why don't we wait until he's done eating and we can set up a meeting…some place that was special to you two?"

Remus nodded. "Outside. You said he knows things?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. I'll guess along with you that he'll know as long as I direct him correctly."

Remus swallowed. "Thank you, sir, for calling on me."

The smile that Dumbledore gave Remus was one filled with compassion and endearment. He nodded to Remus and left him in the office to think about what was happening. Slightly worried that he may not be able to find James, Dumbledore set off to pass the message immediately.

He found James standing outside the Great Hall.

"James," Dumbledore walked up to him with a smile. "You don't need an invitation to join us for breakfast."

"I…I…yeah…" James nodded and sighed. "I don't know if I'm hungry right now."

"If you wish to skip the meal, that is perfectly fine as well. In fact, why don't you get some fresh air? I'm sure there's a spot out there that you'll find rather familiar to be. Somewhere other than the Quidditch pitch."

James eyed the headmaster with a questioning look. "All...right." He turned to walk out the doors, but stopped before he reached them.

Before he could ask, Dumbledore answered. "I argued with her myself, James. I didn't feel it necessary for her to leave either, but she insisted. It is a lot for her to take in as well. With time, I'm sure that you two will reconcile. Do not blame her."

James nodded without turning around and proceeded out the door and into the fresh morning air. With no particular direction, he followed his instincts and headed for a spot beyond where he'd ventured as of yet.

He had told Erica that he'd wait to get his wand before venturing into the Forbidden Forrest, but he had a feeling that Dumbledore knew he was headed this way. It was really the only area on the Hogwarts grounds that he hadn't yet explored.

He stopped after entering the forest. He looked one direction and saw how dark and forbidding it seemed. Looking the other way, there was enough break in the foliage for some light to seep through.

James decided to follow the light. He walked slowly, looking towards every noise he heard. He wasn't sure what he could run into out here, and without a wand, he was a little nervous.

After a few minutes of walking, James found a small clearing. Just enough light came through the forest top so he could see well but it still felt isolated. There was a large tree in the middle of the opening -- an old tree with a huge, round trunk.

James took a deep breath and walked to the tree. He touched his hand to the rough bark as he circled around it. Seeing some carvings on the far side, he stopped.

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs," James read aloud. His hand circled the deep carvings as he read more. "No monster lies here. A wolf, a rat, a dog and a stag – unlikely friends, most obvious brothers." He looked down below and saw two initials carved into the tree as well. Something tore at his heart as he read those. "JP + LE."

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard footsteps approaching. James looked up, unable to find his voice.

* * *

Remus walked in circles after Dumbledore left the office. James. James was alive. James Potter, Hogwarts Head boy…Quidditch obsessed…in love with Lily Evans his whole life…Prongs…was alive!

Remus's heart was doing somersaults as he walked out of the castle. He wasn't sure what to expect. He wasn't sure what he was going to say…how he was supposed to react.

Here Remus was mulling around all summer long thinking that life had taken him back to being alone. He'd been so hurt with the events that had happened so many years ago that finding Sirius alive and innocent had been such a relief for him. He was hoping against hope that things would work out for the best; Harry would get to live with Sirius and Remus would have people, a family of sort, to spend time with.

And that dream had been taken away from him as well. He wasn't fit to be a guardian for Harry, and he knew that. But he'd be damned if he'd let time or fate take him away from him again.

And now? Now? James was alive! James was back! Things _had_ to be okay now, or at least headed that direction. Remus couldn't handle too much more.

He wasn't paying much attention as he walked the old familiar route to the clearing just inside the forest walls. From his year as a professor, he was confident that very few, if any, students had probably wandered this section of the forest. It was on the far side of the grounds, away from the lake, the pitch, Hagrid's…it was secluded. That was the main reason the Marauders had taken a liking to the spot.

When they hadn't felt like sneaking off the grounds but wanted an escape, this was where they had gone. James, Sirius and Peter had worked on becoming animagus here. The spot was sacred and held many memories.

As Remus reached the clearing, the reason he was walking back to the old tree hit him again. His pulse raced as he slowed his pace and stepped into the clearing. He swallowed as he looked up to the tree where a man was standing.

Remus felt his heart drop into this stomach. The messy hair was the same. He still wore glasses, the same style even. He looked older but the years had been kinder to him than to any of the other Marauders. He still had an adventurous air about him, a curiosity about life and an edge that gave him the strength to brave anything.

Remus stopped and stared. James's hazel eyes stared back.

"Remus," James whispered, his eyes lit with joy. "Remus Lupin."

"Merlin," Remus exhaled. "J-james…it's…Prongs."

James smiled. "Moony."

"I…" Remus ran a hand through his thinning hair and took a few steps closer. "You're really alive."

Nodding, James stepped around the tree again before stopping and leaning against it. He looked at Remus. "I don't remember much yet. Erica says I will, soon enough. I've been living in London."

"Merlin, James…if I'd known…if any of us had known…" Remus started with a sad tone in his face.

James shrugged. "Don't blame yourself, Moony. You all thought I'd died…with her, in that house…"

"You don't remember that night?" Remus looked up at him.

James shook his head and kicked the dirt with his foot. "No. I wish I did. I wish I remembered a lot. I remember Lily. I remember Sirius and you…and this place. I can remember my mom too. I…I can remember finding out that you were a werewolf and Sirius and I cornered you in the hallway outside the library to tell you that we knew."

Remus smiled. "You two were the best friends I'd ever encountered."

"What about Wormtail?" James asked, shaking his hand as he began pacing. "Wormtail…Wormtail…why can't I remember him?"

Remus swallowed. "Peter."

James stopped and looked at Remus. He scrunched his nose and shook his head. "I can't remember him."

"There's time, old friend," Remus forced a smile.

The smile on James's face returned and again, he ran a hand through his untidy hair. "Merlin, Remus, what are we supposed to say? How are we supposed to act?"

Remus let out a nervous laugh. "I don't know, James, I don't know. I've…I've had so many shocks in my life that they barely stun me anymore."

James's look softened. "You've been through a lot, huh? Well…I mean…what are you doing these days? What's going on with everyone? Where's Sirius at? And…and this Peter fellow? Merlin, I feel horrid not being able to remember him."

Remus gravely smiled. "Don't feel bad about anything, James. You've done nothing wrong. There's plenty time for catching up. What about you? What…where have you been?"

James nodded. "Well, this woman, this amazing woman named Tiffany found me…that night. She pulled me from the house, Remus, and saved my life I suppose. I woke up in the hospital days, weeks even, later and didn't remember a damn thing, not even my name." He smiled. "You know what we concluded my name to be? Evan. Evan Gryffin."

Remus chuckled. "That doesn't surprise me one bit, old mate. You were so in love with Lily…she was your life. As well as you being a Gryffindor. You upheld that name and everything that went with it with such honor, in true Potter fashion, you know."

James blushed. "True Potter fashion." His eyes wandered the scenery the forest offered. "I wondered for so many years who I was…where I came from. And this is all so surreal. To…to have two sets of memories, two lives. But I only remember parts of one. I've been living as a muggle, Remus. Nothing magical about it." He shook his head. "I don't know what to do with myself."

Remus couldn't help the tears that were forming. "Well, James, I can tell you one thing. You are definitely a wondrous sight for sore eyes. And you will be, to so many people."

James looked at his old friend and gave him a small smile. "Moony, did you miss me?"

"Like hell," Remus laughed.

"I knew my egotistical ways were appreciated," James grinned.

Remus shook his head. "Fifteen years as someone else has done little to deflate that enormous head of yours."

* * *

_What_ was he going to say to her? What was she going to say to him? How was someone who didn't even know him going to be able to help him sort his thoughts? How was someone else going to get through to him if no one close to him had been able to? Was he really so sick in the mind that he needed a _doctor_? A _shrink_? If the Dursley's could only see him now.

"Potter? Harry?" The woman behind the desk called his name.

She looked friendly enough. Tall but with a pretty face. She smiled at him as he nervously stood from his seat.

"Come on, no one's going to bite you here," she winked. "Just stay away from the plant in the corner. Erica's terrible at remembering to feed it."

Harry swallowed and forced a smile and a nervous laugh as she stood and led the way to the office door.

The door seemed rather big. It was a dark brown and Harry could visually see every crack and line in it. The gold doorknob looked worn and old and a bit tarnished. It creaked as Kelsey opened it slowly. She turned back and offered Harry another smile before standing to the side to allow him room to pass her.

"Erica, Harry Potter is here to see you now," Kelsey informed her boss.

Erica gave her best smile for her new patient. If Harry had been a bit less nervous he would have seen that Erica Welling was just as nervous, if not maybe a bit more. She stood from her desk and rounded it, offering out her hand for Harry.

"Good afternoon, Mister Potter, I'm Erica Welling," she swallowed behind the smile.

Harry felt like his stomach was about to come up through his mouth. His palms were sweaty and he felt flush. He'd been through death defying encounters but nothing had made him as nervous as he was currently feeling in the waiting room of Doctor Erica Welling.

Harry weakly shook her hand and nodded.

"Have a seat," she waved her hand across the room, pointing out the couch and the comfortable looking chairs. Harry then noticed the fire crackling to the side of the room.

"Don't worry, I've a block up and I'm not connected to the Floo in here," Erica explained when she noticed him staring at the fireplace. "Everyone worries when they first come in here. I simply have it for the warmth and comfortable feeling a fire seems to offer. I find it helps me and my patients relax."

"Patients," Harry mumbled as he sat down in one of the chairs. _I'm just a patient_, he thought.

Erica seemed to be able to read his thoughts. "It's just a word, Harry, a descriptive word to call the wizards and witches that come to talk with me. I have a very limited list of people I see; I don't want to become impersonal with anyone. I'd much rather remember things than have to look at my notes with everyone that comes in here. Actually, I'm not even seeing my usual amount at the moment. Is there anything that you would like to ask me before we get started?"

Harry chewed on his lip as he stared at the woman that he was supposed to share all of his inner most thoughts with. _Is this how it works_ he asked himself. He was supposed to just…talk and trust her?

"Well…" he started. "I…Remus Lupin said he knew of you. You went to Hogwarts?"

Erica smiled, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She was already there, in that spot that she needed to be in. That spot that enabled her to be the person that her clients were able to trust. The spot in which she pushed everything aside except for what was right in front of her. For a moment, she forgot that James Potter was currently at Hogwarts talking to Remus Lupin, and she only focused on Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, right in front of her.

"Yes, I went to Hogwarts. I was a few years behind Remus Lupin, but I was lucky enough to have exchanged a few words with him here or there. And yes, before you ask, as I know you want to, I knew your parents. I wasn't friends with them exactly, but I knew them. I knew a lot of people from your past, Harry. I think that's a reason why Dumbledore picked me to talk with you."

"I thought it was because you were the best," Harry stared at her.

Erica found herself blushing. "So some like to say. It's not about being the best; it's about being there for people who need me."

"Is that why you do this? You like helping people?"

"Is that why you think you're here? Do you think that you need _help_?"

Harry shrugged. "I think everyone thinks I'm going crazy or something. They don't think I can handle everything. I mean, I just have the future of the Wizarding world and perhaps the muggle world resting on my shoulders. Nothing no other ordinary wizard boy couldn't handle."

Erica smiled. "Do you think you're an ordinary wizard boy, Harry?"

Harry stared into the fire. "Sometimes I wish I was."

"What makes you think you aren't?"

Harry snapped his attention back to Erica. "I've hardly lived a very normal life, have I?" His emerald eyes glared at the crimson haired doctor. "Surviving Voldemort and rendering him powerless for over twelve years sort of puts me above average, apparently. Then there's the fact that I've faced him personally a few times and survived each time as well. I've sort of this bad luck that follows me around, you see. Where ever I go, drama and life threatening situations are sure to follow."

"But Harry, you are an amazing and very brave soul that so many wizards admire. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Harry looked down to the floor and replied in a small voice. "What's there to admire? It's all been accidental. Everything has…even when I killed my godfather."

There was silence in the room. The only sound that Harry could here was his own rushed breathing. His heartbeat kept getting louder and louder, like the ticking of a clock in the dead of night. Why wasn't she replying? Why didn't she have a comment to that?

Harry picked at his nails as the deafening silence lingered on.

He swallowed. The sound of his Adam's apple bobbing roared in his ears. He was drowning in this…this…painful silence! She was a doctor! She was supposed to make him feel better! Why, WHY wasn't she saying anything?

Harry threw his arm out over the table next to the chair. The vase holding the colorful flowers flipped on its side as it crashed to the floor. It broke into a thousand pieces, scattering across the wooden floor.

"I killed my mum! I killed my dad! Sirius was locked away in Azkaban because my parents were dead and couldn't defend him! And then he escapes and only wants to be there for me and I KILLED HIM TOO!" Harry roared. "I killed Cedric! I gave Voldemort what he needed to come back! People are going to DIE and it's all because of ME!"

Harry hid his face behind his hands as his choked sobs filled the room. He refused to look up at Erica and kept his head down.

Erica waited a few moments for him to calm down slightly. "Harry, what is it that makes you feel free? Is it doing something, being somewhere? Is there a place that you can go and you feel as though you are defying life somehow, that nothing can stop you?" Erica asked him quietly.

Harry looked up at her confused. Usually an outburst such as that would follow with people worried about him or people huffing back at him for being so angry.

He shrugged, "I don't know."

"You play Quidditch, don't you?"

"I did," he spat.

Erica smiled. "And I'm sure you will again. Do you like to fly? Do you love the feel of the air rushing against your face, the thrill of being one with the wind? The idea that gravity doesn't exist? Do you feel as though you have control over everything when you're zooming through the sky, dipping and turning, your destination unknown and unimportant?"

Harry slowly nodded his head at the uncanny description of his feelings when he was on a broom.

"Go there, right now," Erica's voice grew quiet and soft. It almost sang to him as she described the whipping wind over the lake. The cloudless sky that seemed to stretch on for an eternity was described exactly as if he was there.

"Do you feel that, Harry? Can you feel that peace in your heart? The love that ignites your inner most feelings?"

Harry snapped his eyes open and looked at her.

"Stay there, Harry, in your place while we talk," Erica demanded. "Because, Harry, whether it's saving the world, witnessing death, or deciding to have pumpkin juice over orange juice in the morning, everyone, be them wizard or muggle, faces life altering decisions daily. Many people can make the choice without a blink of the eye, but those of us who feel, who aren't living in a rose colored world, we need a place of peace where we can sort our thoughts. That's all I'm here for, Harry. I'm not going to make your decisions for you; I'm not going to tell you what you're doing wrong or what you are doing right. I'm not here to tell you how you should be feeling or how to fix things. I'm here to help you find that place so that you can find the answers you need. I'm here to be your friend, a confidant; that's all. I'm nothing to be afraid of or to hate, but if that's what it takes for you, then I'll be that."

Swallowing what felt like a giant sized frog, Harry stared at Erica with curiosity. This wasn't going how he had envisioned it at all.

"I can't have thoughts…he'll know them," he finally said quietly.

Erica tilted her head. "Not if you master Occlumency, Harry. You have the chance at being better than him, have you thought of it that way? You have the opportunity to be a better person, a better living soul than him -- do it. Fight it and prove to yourself that you can do it. Maybe it'll be the greatest accomplishment that you'll partake in, maybe it'll be nothing compared to something that you'll do in twenty years." She shrugged.

"I don't want to be a hero, Erica," Harry's look softened. He was starting to break. He could feel the hot tears forming in his eyes as he admitted to this stranger the thought that haunted him day after night after day.

Erica studied him for a moment; the messy hair that was sticking up in all directions just like his father's. She admired his emerald eyes that looked so ghostly, but in the far corners sparkled like the curious ones that Lily had possessed. His glasses were askew from him trying to nervously fight the oncoming tears. He looked so worn and old for a sixteen year old boy. He was wise beyond his years, but didn't even realize it.

"Harry," Erica sat up straight and leaned forward just a bit. She looked him straight in the eyes as she spoke, not blinking once. "Then don't be a hero." Her voice was barely more than a whisper. "Don't fight for the world. Don't try and be a savior."

"Quit?"

"Is that what you'd like to do?" Erica asked him, sitting back in her chair.

"No…I…well…" Harry was confused. How could he _quit_? He was prophesized to be the savior of the Wizarding world! It wasn't his choice! Voldemort was going to either kill him or be killed by him; those were the only two choices. Harry couldn't run…he couldn't just quit…

"What's in it for you, Harry? Why would you want to do this? Why would you want to risk your life for a world that you barely know?"

Harry's attention was snapped back to Erica again. _Why would you want to risk your life for a world that you barely know?_ The question echoed through the depths of Harry's mind for what seemed like an eternity.

Harry sat up straighter in his chair and glared at Erica, "It _is_ my world. What's in it for me? Revenge. _Revenge_ for my parents, for Sirius, for the losses that Remus has had too. I lost my family because of Voldemort and I want revenge. His petty want for ruling the world took away my world and I don't appreciate his selfishness. I never got to know my mum and dad. I never got to hear the stories of the Marauders running crazy through the halls of Hogwarts from my arrogant father. I didn't get to start school knowing who my enemies would be. I didn't have any of this because of HIM and I want him to _pay_ for that."

Erica smiled. "Good."

She stood up and gathered her notebook, which Harry noticed she hadn't written anything in. She walked back to her desk and tossed the book down. She opened a drawer as she sat in her chair.

"Good? _Good_? That's all you have to say?" Harry demanded.

Erica looked up at Harry with wide eyes. "Was there something more that you wanted me to say?"

"Well…I just…I mean, I thought…" Harry looked bewildered. Erica chuckled.

"Harry, do you realize what you just admitted to me?"

He looked at her questionably.

"You just admitted to me that you are angry. That you want revenge, that you can be selfish too and that you are. You admitted that you are in pain and that you walk around with, not the weight of the world on your shoulders, but the weight of your life. Sure, maybe it's the wrong reasons to want to fight him, but Harry, Merlin, Harry, it's the most sensible and true reason why anyone would be brave enough to face him." She stood up and walked around her desk again. This time, she leaned against the front of it, facing Harry.

"You," she narrowed her eyes. "Are an amazing wizard, Harry James Potter. I have never met anyone like you." She smiled, "Well, maybe someone close to being like you, but you still are so very different in your own way. I like that. I get people in here all the time that have nightmares from what they've seen. That's all they can think about. Just the nightmares. I have people that come in here who don't know how to handle the plate in front of them, and the only thing that they can think of is what they are going to do. I have people that come in here, Harry, that are filled with fear and they let that drive them through life. You are none of these people."

Harry looked up at her, "What am I then?"

"A boy of magical wonder," she smiled. "You have nightmares that reflect your worries and you have a plate full of troubles. You have fear. You have a lot of fear, but that is not all that you are. You have love and care twirled within all that. When you face Voldemort, it's not fear of him or fear for your life that runs through your veins, its fear of a missed opportunity that pushes you forward." Erica nodded her head as she turned to walk behind her desk again. "And that, Harry," she stopped and looked at him again. "That is something more magical than all the magic in the world. Dumbledore himself couldn't produce something as beautiful and fearful as that. Maybe it's true; all those spells that Dumbledore cast fifteen years ago have had something to do with your survival. And maybe you learning all of this magic will aid you, but Harry, personal vendettas will carry them through to the final breath. Usually, they're silly childish misunderstandings that people over indulge – but yours; yours has the capability, Harry, of changing the world."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Harry whispered.

"And that's what drives you forward, too, isn't it?" She tilted her head again.

"But…isn't it wrong to be so selfish?"

Erica grinned. "Sometimes. Sometimes being selfish is wrong, but that's because it hurts people. It hurts people that you love and that," she nodded. "That's when it's wrong. But other times…being selfish can be the best thing. You're father was so selfish, Harry, that he was regarded by those who knew him as unselfish. Because what drove him to be selfish were the very things that he was commended for. Do you understand?"

"Selfishness can be a driving force for doing good?"

"Yes," she seemed to smile more to herself than to him. "Being selfish also is a sign that you can accept who you are, Harry. It's a sign that you can be comfortable with who you are and what you stand for. And a true hero," she took a deep breath. "A true hero is someone who hurts just like the rest of us."

There was a knock on the door and Kelsey stuck her head in. "Erica, you have an important owl waiting for you."

Erica nodded. "Thanks, Kels." She cleared her throat and smiled at Harry. "Well, I guess that's it for today. I'll see you in a couple of days, okay?"

"Yeah…" Harry slowly rose to his feet. He looked at the mess next to the chair that he made. "I'm sorry about…"

"No need to apologize," she whisked her wand and the pieces reformed together, the vase of colorful flowers sitting atop the table once again. "Harry, do me one favor before we see each other again."

"What?" He looked over his shoulder at her.

"Be selfish," she smiled. "Bring your happy place with you where ever you go. Be you."

Harry put his hand on the doorknob but didn't turn it. Without looking back at her he asked, "What if I don't know who that is?"

"Stop being for others and you'll surface," she simply stated. "If you don't mind, let that owl fly in here as you leave. Thanks."

Harry opened the squeaky door and ducked as a bold, black owl swept passed him into her office. He nodded at Kelsey who handed him a parchment with the date and time of his next appointment.

He followed the corridors to the lift and took it down. He didn't even notice the looks and stares from the people as he walked to the doorway of St. Mungo's. He saw Tonks waiting for him right where she said she would be.

She looked at him and he laughed at her.

"What?"

"I liked the bubblegum pink hair better than this," he pointed to her pale pink dreadlocks.

She smiled. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," He nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay."

* * *

James and Remus stood before the portrait of the Fat Lady silently. Both were a little hesitant at what entering the Gryffindor tower was going to bring them. They both realized that this was a huge step in gaining memories for James; this tower was where he lived for seven years of his life, perhaps the most important seven years of his life.

James inhaled a deep breath and glanced at his friend for a hint of moral support. They'd spent the morning, lunch and most of the afternoon walking the grounds, talking of nothing that held great importance. Remus made sure to stay away from any conversation that would elude James to the horrors that his 'death' had bore. He had suavely swung the light-hearted conversation in other directions, concentrating on what James already did remember.

The Fat Lady looked at the two with wide eyes. She smiled, "It's been a long time since I've seen the two of you standing here waiting to enter."

Remus smiled back. "Some things in life can never change, huh? Devil's Snare."

The Fat Lady swung out, letting the two men enter. Remus let James go first.

James stepped inside, allowing Remus just enough room to stand beside him. He looked around and admired the great burgundy and gold drapes and the Gryffindor crest hanging down from the ceiling. The fire crackled merrily, welcoming the two back to their old home.

"Just look at this place, Remus," James said in awe as he slowly stepped forward and took it all in. "It's magnificent."

"It always was, wasn't it?" Remus sighed happily. So many memories held his thoughts.

"It looks the same," James commented.

"You remember?"

James winked. "Of course I do."

Remus chuckled. "I'm beginning to think that you haven't lost your memory at all and this is just some abdominal sized prank you're pulling on everyone."

James laughed. "You wouldn't put that past me, would you, ole Moony?"

The two walked around the common room, appreciating every small thing that most students would take for granted.

"I remember all the times when Sirius lost his eyebrows playing games right here," James pointed to a couch in the corner just off to the side of the fireplace.

Remus laughed, remembering as well. "I also remember you getting your head chewed off many times from Lily."

James smiled, content in the memories of his lost love for the time being. "She was always curled up studying. I'd always have to bother her, didn't I?"

"Is it any reason she thought of you as a nuisance?"

"Nah, I deserved every harsh word she yelled at me," James admitted. "But I won her heart in the end, didn't I?"

"You always said you would," Remus smiled back.

"Merlin," James sighed, looking up both cases of stairs. "How many times did she run away from me? How many times did I try and chase her up those stairs? Do they still change to a slide?"

Remus laughed. "As if males have become any more trust worthy since our time. Of course they do, you dimwit."

James laughed as well. "Dimwit. Wanker. Prat. Can we go up?"

"They aren't going to be exactly like we remember them, Prongs," Remus reminded him.

"Yeah, I know, but I want to look," James nodded. He began walking up the stairs leading to the boys' dormitory. Remus reluctantly followed. He hoped against hope that the house elves made sure to clean up for the summer like they were supposed to; that nothing was left behind, specifically in the fifth year dorms.

James had to look in each room. With every door he opened, a memory flooded his mind, pranks that they had pulled, fights that the four boys had. Without either of the men noticing, James had remembered Peter Pettigrew; he had remembered the pudgy boy they had adopted into their club of prank-pulling fun. Wormtail had been one of James's best mates and he hadn't forgotten him after all.

They made their rounds and ended up back in the common room. James sat on the couch in front of the fire, Remus on the chair nearest him. Left on the cushion was an old beat up book of Transfiguration.

"My best subject," James winked at Remus as he scanned the pages. "My wand was perfect for it, you know."

"Are you going to get another wand?" Remus asked him.

James shrugged. "No one knows quite what happened to my old wand. It's around, I'm sure."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean, it's around?"

James sighed. "I don't know, Remus. That's what I mean. I know everything. I remember everything, I just can't bring it to the front of my mind. I know exactly what happened that night, that ill-fated, terrible night. I know there are a lot of pieces that are still missing from my mind; I know there are some major things that no one has told me yet. I know there are things that you don't want to tell me, that are going to hurt me to find out…and I know there are things that only I know, answers to questions that I probably only know exist…but I can't get to them yet. They're there," James pointed to his head. "They are right there, but this," He pointed to his heart, "won't let me get them yet."

"Wise in your old age, aren't you?" Remus let his lips curl into a slight smile.

James shrugged, flipping the pages of the book. "Wasn't I always?"

Remus chuckled. "Beyond your years, James, beyond your years."

"There was a war raging when I died…that's why I died, right?"

Remus looked at James thoughtfully. He wasn't sure exactly how much he was supposed to let on. He didn't know Erica or Dumbledore's plans. But this was James Potter; this was Remus's last chance at having one of his best friends with him.

"Yes."

James nodded, "The Dark Lord. Evil son of a bitch. Him and his goddamned Dark Arts. I fought him, Remus. I fought him personally, didn't I?"

"You did," Remus nodded.

"Lily did with me. We fought him and escaped with our lives three times," James sighed. He stared into the fire. "The fourth time we weren't so lucky."

"Apparently you were."

James looked up. "Yes, but I don't think it went exactly as planned. And I don't think that I wanted to do it at all."

"Do what, James?"

"The plan," James started to shake his head. He tossed the book to the side and leaned his elbows on his knees. "It was her plan, Merlin she was a damn smart witch. I thought _we_ were amazing, fifth year and we were already animagi, but _she_, she was brilliant beyond comprehension. And so much braver than I was…so willing…and it worked…just things didn't happen like they were supposed to…"

Remus leaned forward, the wrinkles in his face creased. "James, what are you talking about?"

"Remus, Lily and I knew you weren't the traitor, we knew it was Peter. That's why we let Sirius talk us out of using him as the secret keeper, that's _why_ we chose Peter. Voldemort had to find us…this was our only chance. I had Lily convinced that it was us, and us alone that could take him down. She believed me. She believed every word I said, Remus, and she devised this plan."

Remus grew pale. He was afraid that he was about to learn just exactly what had happened that night. And if he did, then he had to share with James what James deserved to know. What had happened to Sirius, to Peter, to Harry.

Did this mean that James remembered Harry?

"James, go on," Remus urged, curiosity making his heart reverberate almost faster than his weary body could handle.

James took a deep breath. "Our baby…" His eyes filled with tears. "The prophecy…we used it all, Remus. Our love…her love…we researched old magic and the dark arts and we used everything we knew to make this spell…I wasn't supposed to be the only survivor. I wasn't supposed to have lost my memory…our baby was supposed to have lived, the prophecy, it was up to Voldemort to decide who it was going to be. It could have been the Longbottom's boy…what was his name…Neville. It could have been him. Alice and Frank…wonderful people, Remus. But Lily and I knew. We knew that Voldemort would choose us. We knew that he was worried about us, maybe more so than the Longbottom's because he knew that we knew more than we let on. And Peter. He had Peter, and Pete was still afraid of me too, so I knew that Voldemort would choose us…"

James was truly crying now, silent tears made their way down his face. His mind was playing the ultimate trick on him and was letting him remember the things he didn't want to know anymore, even if they were the things he'd been yearning to know for years.

"MERLIN!" James yelled as he kicked the floor. "What were we _thinking_? Why'd I let her do it? Why did I let her let me talk her into it?"

"James," Remus spoke quietly. "Lily was stubborn; you of all people should know that. She did it because she wanted to."

James sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

Remus coughed. "James, there's something else…"

James looked at Remus. "What?"

"You weren't the only survivor that night."

* * *

**_...huggles n cookies..._**

**_...missers... _**


	8. Unfolding the Truth

**Chapter Eight – Unfolding the Truth**

Harry sat on the bed leaning against the wall as he flicked a Knut up and down. He was beginning to hate this thing called thinking. It took too much out of him. But he couldn't stop thinking about his meeting with Erica Welling.

The meeting hadn't lasted very long, and really, not much had been said. Somehow, though, Erica seemed very different to him, different than anyone else he had to talk to. She didn't care about right or wrong like he was usually reminded of. She didn't bother to remind him that he owed his life, more than once, to his parents. She didn't seem to look at him as some bratty kid who wasn't appreciating everything he had.

She just seemed to care.

Harry thought about his outburst. If he wasn't crazy, he was thinking that Erica had _wanted _him to do that. She had wanted him to lay it all out, and to be honest, it had felt really good. To let it go, yell out his feelings and not worry about a reaction. And her reaction? The way she just turned and sat back down at her desk…unbelievably, that was exactly what Harry needed. It made him feel normal somehow.

It was okay for him to be angry. It was okay for him to have selfish thoughts. It was okay for him to want to just be an average, normal, wizard boy of sixteen. It was okay for him to wish with all his heart that he had those he'd lost near him. It was okay for him to miss them.

It was okay for him to be, well, _him_.

He thought again of the events that had just occurred a few months ago. It seemed like such a nightmare, a fast-paced flash of a horrible dream. What he had failed to realize, and really appreciate, was that he _did_ have people around him that cared.

Ron and Hermione? They were truly the best friends that anyone could ask for. He had the best of everything between the two and he knew that he was just as important to the both of them as they were to him. And it wasn't because of the scar on his forehead, or the pity they might feel for him.

Knowing Hermione, he chuckled, she'd yell at him for even thinking that she felt pity on him.

And Neville? Ginny? Luna? All the members of the D.A.? The Weasley's? They were all friends to him. They all believed in him and were behind him. Some of them were willing to risk their own lives to fight with him, beside him.

It was more than anyone at the age of sixteen could dream of asking for. And this thought brought upon Harry, a genuine smile of contentment; the first one in a very long time. He wasn't alone in this world. It was his fight and only his, but he has people willing to help him so he _isn't_ alone.

_When you face Voldemort, it's not fear of him or fear for your life that runs through your veins, its fear of a missed opportunity that pushes you forward_. Erica's words still echoed in his mind. Voldemort had chosen Harry as a child, barely able to do much more than smile and laugh, and had marked him as his equal. He had marked him as the one that he would fight when the time would come.

Harry had lost so much because of this evil and corrupt man. Harry wondered what it was, exactly, that had led Tom Riddle to become what he was. That life could be so harsh for someone to give up all the beauty of love and happiness to rein a world in terror was unfathomable to Harry. It was sickening. It was sad.

There had to be more to the story than Harry knew. Obviously, Dumbledore hadn't told him everything before, was there still more? Was there more than what Dumbledore knew?

Why had Peter Pettigrew turned his back against his own friends? Why was living in honor of Voldemort more important to him than the lives of his friends? Granted, Harry had learned that his father wasn't the perfect person he'd imagined him to be, but he was still a friend. Harry could feel that much and knew it from the way that Sirius and Remus had talked of him. Loyalty and truth were two virtues that James Potter had held close and dear. What had gone wrong in the friendship? Were his parents even aware? Had they seen it coming?

Harry's thoughts wandered to his old professor. The pain that Remus had gone through was immeasurable. To have lost all three of your best mates at once? To have realized that one of them was a traitor…to live with the pain of loneliness for so many years…

And Sirius, Harry thought. Sirius Black was unlike no other. He was as pompous as James had been, but held a heart of gold inside. The Potter's were his family, his true family. And he fought to his last breath for them, Harry knew, and against his own blood.

Harry lay on his side. He curled up, hugging the pillow.

What did Petunia know? How much of this world and Harry's past did she really know about? Did she really care about him? What made her hide, then? What made her stow away her feelings and sprinkle out hatred for her sister? She couldn't really hate Harry or she wouldn't have agreed to take him in at all.

The more questions he thought of, the more questions that continued to appear. He was determined, however, to find the answers. This was his life they were playing with. All of them, from Voldemort to Dumbledore to everyone in between, they were all playing with his life. He deserved to know the answers to all of his questions. He wasn't too young anymore. He wasn't too young to fight against Voldemort, he wasn't too young to understand what the prophecy stated - he wasn't too young to know the truth.

Harry realized that all these thoughts were good ones to share with Erica. Maybe she could help direct him in the right direction to get his answers.

And, he decided, he was going to master occlumency. Voldemort was not going to be allowed the privilege of knowing his thoughts.

If Harry had to fight for the truth, then let the evil dark lord suffer as well.

Because Harry was going to win.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore smiled as Erica walked into his office. He looked up from his desk and set aside the papers he had been reading.

"Good day, Miss Welling," he waved his hand in front of him, offering her a seat.

"Good day, I do believe, Albus," Erica returned the smile. She sat down and readily accepted the offering of candy from the Headmaster. "How have things gone here this afternoon?"

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes answered her question, but he answered nonetheless. "I dare say, rather well. They've been talking together since this morning, wandering the grounds, both with smiles and laughter."

Erica grinned. "I'm so glad. You know, I'd be willing to expect that being with Remus will allow James to remember so much. I'm sure being with a friend will allow him to accept more, as well. Perhaps those things he doesn't want to remember."

"I agree. The last I heard the two had been heading towards the Gryffindor Tower."

"Many memories await James there," Erica was pleased with the day's events.

"And what else causes the smile on your face, my dear?" Dumbledore asked.

Erica laughed. "I think my meeting with Harry went very well. It wasn't quite what I expected, but…better. I wasn't expecting a break through our first meeting."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose with curiosity. "A break through?"

Erica nodded and told Dumbledore about the meeting. Without breaking Harry's privacy, she managed to tell Dumbledore enough so that he was not in the dark with Harry's progress. She'd never dream of breaking the relationship she so heartily worked for with her patients, but Erica felt that Dumbledore deserved to know that Harry at least seemed to be making an effort with her.

"I'm glad to hear that, Erica," Dumbledore nodded. "It's a very good sign that he was willing to trust you so quickly. The faster that he can come to terms with what he already knows, the sooner that his future can begin."

"About that, Sir," Erica cleared her throat. "I've been thinking since I talked with Harry, on what may be the best approach with the them meeting. I wanted to know how you felt about it."

"I believe that time will run its course."

"I agree, if I understand correctly," she nodded and sat back comfortably in the chair. "I have this feeling that James does remember Harry. My question is if he realizes that Harry survived that night or not. The mystery surrounding the night has only intensified with the discovery of James, of course. But I think that as soon as he remembers, it would be best for James to be able to choose."

"You think that he'll be rational enough to make such a decision?"

Erica sighed. "I'm not sure that rationality should be a question in any of this. We're dealing with two people's lives, Sir, with all due respect. Would a parent be able to be any sort of rational when not having seen their child in such a long time?"

"Again, it is another relative thought," Dumbledore squinted his eyes in thinking. "James will undoubtedly want to see Harry immediately."

"Then of course, there is the whole subject matter of Sirius Black," Erica reminded him.

"Yes. I've been thinking of that today. I've been wandering how Remus has handled the situation in its entirety. The subject of Sirius and Peter Pettigrew has undoubtedly come up at some point in their conversations."

"Any more time that we keep them apart is only a deed as evil as how much time has already passed between them. I think that if James has the whole picture and feels ready, then by no means should we stand in the way."

"My concern is more for Harry than for James," Dumbledore admitted. "I feel that James can handle the emotions that are sure to stir within. He's handling everything well so far, and he's always been of strong demeanor. Harry, on the other hand…"

"Will handle it just as well, _I'm_ sure," Erica declared. "He's been through many traumas, no doubt, and to be quite honest with you, he's handled them far better than many wizards of my own age could. The resentment that he feels, the anger and the bitter emotions are all natural feelings, partially caused by the lack of parents. Emotions are not something to be played with by any means, but in regards to this situation-"

"It is not us who would be playing so much as...refereeing." Dumbledore finished her thoughts. "I agree."

"Sir, if I dare ask," Erica got a bit nervous. "Does James being alive make any difference in the prophecy?"

Dumbledore looked out his window in a daze before replying to her. He seemed to drift off into one of his thinking moods, a disposition that few ever saw him in.

"It is something that I've been concerned with myself," he finally spoke. "The prophecy spoke only of Voldemort and the one that he marks. It spoke of nothing in regards to support for either."

"I think that James is what Harry needs," she told him authoritively.

Dumbledore smiled. "Of course. It's just the timing, Erica, that worries me."

"I'm sorry, sir, could you elaborate on that?"

"Voldemort is back, and the Ministry has acknowledged it finally. Wizards of all kinds are scared. Our world is in uproar and the times of not knowing who to trust are upon us once again."

"Yes, sir," Erica cocked an eyebrow at him. "So wouldn't this be the best time for Harry to finally have something constant in his life? Someone to be near his side in the times that Harry needs a guide?"

"But, Erica, it's his father, whom he has no real memory of and has thought to be dead. The pressure is on Harry like it has never been before. Forgetting all of Rita Skeeter's attempts at convincing the public that Harry is crazy, our kind is ripped in two when it comes to thinking of him. Either they are on the sidelines cheering for him, willing him to finalize the blow against Voldemort, or they hate him and think of him as no more than a pause in the inevitable. Voldemort is back and will rein his terror on the world again. He stopped him once; can he stop him again?"

"You sound as though you have little faith," Erica prodded the old wizard.

"Faith," Dumbledore sighed. "I have faith that good will win over evil. What I fear is that I've belittled the faith out of someone else."

Erica gazed at the Headmaster for a few moments as he again watched out the window. A moment of fear ran down Erica's spine. If the greatest wizard that she knew was fearful and had lost something, what was she to think? What were the other wizards and witches of her time to think? Erica knew, because it had been the same in her days, that Dumbledore was a sort of hero to the children he taught. And for Harry to have not had a reliable father figure, Dumbledore must mean something great to him.

"Sir, may I ask…" Erica started.

"I fear that I have let him down. Out of fear myself, really," Dumbledore explained.

"Sir?"

"It is my fault, after all, Erica, that Harry never knew anything of the prophecy until recently. I took it as my responsibility to tell him, to keep him safe until the time came for him to enter school. I took it as my responsibility to be the safeguard of him, and I fear that in doing so, I came to care for him too much, too much in fact, that it may have ruined what is left of my part in this."

Erica blinked a couple times, attempting to understand. "Sir, may I ask, why did you take the responsibility? I understand that of those closest to James and Lily, the only survivor at the time was Remus Lupin, who was in no state to care for him, and again, I understand the ancient spell that has binded Harry's safety with Lily's sister, but…why did you take it upon yourself the added pressure and anxiety to ensure Harry's safety?"

Dumbledore smiled. "James Potter, and his friends, were special to me, as was Lily. James had a deep desire, far deeper than most could understand, to right the wrongs in this world. I'm not one to stand by, Erica, when action must be taken, I fear not in doing it, but rather it not being done. I knew many things and had the knowledge to carry on. I had to make the decisions, you see."

"Harry knows this, doesn't he?"

"Yes."

Erica smiled. "Well, isn't it ironic when the wizard that I admire the most in the world and feel is wise beyond all comprehension can show his weaknesses, too?"

Dumbledore gave Erica a small smile before continuing. "Erica, my fear in this situation is that Harry feels betrayed enough as it is, his reaction to finding his father fully alive may not be the sweet reunion we all hope for."

"I understand," Erica contemplated. "But the situation is going to arise soon, Sir. And we must be prepared for it. Both of them will need a friend."

"There is so much to prepare for," Dumbledore nodded.

"Once term starts…it's different from when I was in attendance to Hogwarts. It's much more known, now, who many of his followers are…"

"Yes, the Deputy Headmistress and I have gone over many changes that we will be discussing with the rest of the staff soon. It's a precarious situation that we are in now, however, I do feel-"

The sudden forceful entrance of James Potter into his office interrupted Albus Dumbledore. James wasted no time in knocking and had thrown the door open with such force that it inherited a small crack down the center from hitting the back wall. Erica jumped and stared at the man with wide eyes. Remus came running in, following James's wild entrance, short of breath from his chase of the currently livid man before them.

"James-"

"SHUT UP!" James yelled at the Headmaster. "How _dare_ you act so calm around me for days! How dare you act as though there is no fear in the world and that what I have loss is in the past! How dare you not tell me vitally important things about my own life!"

"Prongs, listen to me-" Remus attempted at grabbing James's shoulder and pulling him away from Dumbledore's desk.

James shrugged Remus's hand away. "NO! He needs to hear this."

Dumbledore nodded. "I am to assume that you have remembered-"

"Never assume, Albus," James sneered. "It's not wise to think you know your enemy."

"James! Albus is not your enemy!" Erica yelled at him.

"No? You're right," James nodded with a manic laughter. "You wouldn't be either, would you? Because I do suppose that if I came face to face with Voldemort, or a Malfoy, or hell, even Snape, they'd relish in the idea of telling me that Lily died that night, the night that I supposedly did, but my son did not, and that he is in fact, at this very moment, alive and well, having fought the Lord of Darkness several times already."

There was silence in the room.

"James, we, as in Albus and I, came to a decision together medically that we were not going to tell you anything until you began remembering," Erica calmly tried to explain.

James scoffed at her before turning his attention to Dumbledore. "And you? You really thought that my finding out on my own was going to be the best way? You thought that as I remembered Harry and mourned the loss of him as well, that telling me later _on_ he's still alive was the best way to go about this?"

"James, this is a sensitive subject," Dumbledore started.

"Damn right it is! This is my _son_! This is my _family_! This child came from _Lily and me_! This is all I have left and you felt it not important to tell me sooner!"

"Harry is in good hands, James," Remus told him.

James bit his lower lip and looked down to his shaking hands. His eyes felt moist and his voice lowered and softened. "He hasn't been in mine…"

"But we can change that now," Erica stood up and slowly approached James. "You're back now."

"DAMN IT!" James suddenly turned towards Dumbledore's desk and swept his hand across it. Statues and papers went flying as Erica jumped back from shock. Dumbledore remained seated, calmly watching James's hysteria. Remus clenched his fists as he closed his eyes and sighed.

"You are missing the point," James hissed at Erica. "Fine, it is my own fault for the spell not working correctly that night, and it's my own fault that Lily died and I lost my memory. It's my own fault that I've been living another life all this time while my son has been growing up in a world without a parent, but it is _not_ my fault that…that…"

"James?" Erica tilted her head sideways and tried to look into his hazel eyes that were squinting from rage.

"He's been living with Sirius, right? That's why only Remus came today?" James looked between all three, waiting for an answer.

"James, there is more that I need to tell you," Remus started.

James started shaking his head. He started backing up, putting himself into a corner. "No. No. Sirius couldn't have…he…no. Then Remus should have taken him!" James cried. "Who has been raising my son? What happened to Sirius?"

Remus swallowed, "James-"

"Perhaps we should begin by telling you what happened that night, in our eyes," Dumbledore suggested.

James viciously eyed Dumbledore, wanting to blame someone, wanting to pin someone for the misery that he was feeling. He was elated that Harry was still alive, but the guilt that rose from the depths of his heart overcame his happiness.

"Come, sit," Erica ushered James. She sat back in her chair and pat the seat next to her. Remus nodded his head at James and took a seat himself. Reluctantly, James sat on the edge of the seat and looked at Dumbledore.

"Go on."

Dumbledore cleared his throat and began his tale. He told the same tale that up until a few days ago, everyone knew. The tale of the secret-keeper switch, the tale of Voldemort finding them, the tale of James and Lily bravely fighting for their son, and of course the outcome of that fight, as they found the house.

James wept a silent tear as Dumbledore told of the fight that ensued between Sirius and Peter on that muggle street. Remus could see the anger building up in James as he heard how Sirius was sent to Azkaban with no trial. And when he found that Harry was left to be raised by the Dursley's?

"WHAT? The _Dursley's_?" James exclaimed with a look of disgust and horror on his face.

Dumbledore nodded calmly. "James, it was the only thing that was safe to do. Ancient magic allowed me to cast a spell using Lily's love for Harry to have been safe with Petunia. As long as their home is his home, he'd be safe. And he had a chance to grow up not in the eyes of the Wizarding world."

"Merlin," James moaned. "Do you know how much Vernon _loathed_ us? He despised the ground on which Lily and I walked on! Petunia? Bloody hell, Albus! Vernon brainwashed her into thinking that our kind were freaks. She refused to talk to Lily after their parents died…"

"I'm quite aware, James, of the unfortunate feelings the family has against our kind, however, they were the only blood relatives alive to take Harry."

"Was he…is he - I mean…how was his childhood? Is he okay? What kind of…what kind of person has he become? Merlin, I wish Remus could have had him."

"You know I couldn't have done that, James," Remus reminded him quietly. "I'm barely fit to be around anyone once a month; I couldn't have handled taking care of a small boy. The risks were too high."

"Don't they have a cure yet?" James asked, hopefully.

Remus smiled at his old friends optimism. "No, but there is a potion that helps."

"It's a start," James nodded. "What happened, with Harry, once he was ready to come here? Did they let him learn his magic as he was growing up? Merlin, the Dursley's…"

"Sadly, James, the Dursley's chose not to let Harry know that he was a wizard. In fact, I had to send Hagrid to get Harry before term started his first year. The Dursley's refused to accept that he was a wizard," Dumbledore explained.

"Good God," James exhaled breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Dumbledore went on, explaining what Harry had gone through his first year of school. He told him of his fitting in, his classes, Quidditch, Professor Quirrel, the Stone, his enemies and of course, his friends.

"Weasley? Weasley?" James chimed. "As in Bill Weasley? Arthur and Molly?"

"Yes, Ron and Ginny are their youngest," Remus explained.

"And who is this Hermione girl?" James was curious about Harry's friends.

"She's muggle born," Dumbledore told him. "Perhaps the smartest witch of their year."

James smiled. "Just like Lils." He took a deep breath, taking everything in as Dumbledore continued and told James of Harry's second year. " Okay, so far Harry has had to fight Voldemort in some way each year he's come to school! Tell me his third year was better, safer, something."

Remus cleared his throat. "Third year was an emotional one, James. I was here that year, teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."

James smiled. "A good subject for you. Did he know who you were?"

"He did. We talked a little. He, of course, asked me about you and Lily…" Remus had to take a deep breath. "I helped him learn to fight dementors while I was here."

"Dementors in third year? Isn't that a bit early?" James asked.

"Sirius had escaped from Azkaban, James," Dumbledore explained.

"What?" James looked thrilled. "He did! Has anyone ever done that before?" James slapped his knee and shook his head, "Damn it, Padfoot. If anyone…"

Dumbledore continued, his facial expressions not changing. "He managed to hold his own while in the prison by transforming into his animagus form; _illegal_ animagus form, I might add." Dumbledore gave James a look.

James smiled. "Merlin. I haven't tried that yet."

Erica rolled her eyes. "You should register, James. It's against the law to be able to transform and not be on the list."

James shrugged. "The ministry doesn't even know I'm alive. Please continue, Albus. So is Harry with Sirius now? Is he cleared?"

Silence bestilled the room once again for a moment as the three story tellers glanced at one another.

"No, James, neither of those are true," Dumbledore finally answered. Before James could reply, he continued with the explanation, explaining the events of Harry's third year at Hogwarts.

"Peter's still alive?" James had a mixture of anger, resentment and disgust on his face.

Remus finished the story of the fateful night on which Sirius was saved and Harry, as well as Remus and Dumbledore, learned the truth of James and Lily's secret keeper.

"I don't understand," James shook his head. "Why didn't you all just go to the Minister of Magic and explain what happened? Sirius could be free and Harry could be living with him rather than the damn Dursley's!"

"It's not that simple, James," Dumbledore said. "It was Sirius's word against everyone else's. He was quite the manic on the night you and Lily died. The way he acted, the expression he wore when the Ministry arrived on the scene after he and Peter had fought – it was inevitable that he was found guilty. The Death Eater's didn't know who our traitor was either, and Sirius had a family history and a past that could have easily guided him to the dark side. He was a strong wizard as well. Redemption in the eyes of Voldemort for his brother's death, to be the final Black to live up to the family name, was a thought in the eyes of many. Imprisoning Sirius was a glory moment for Fudge; it helped him get the Minister position."

"Fudge?" James made a face. "As in Cornelius Fudge? _He's _the Minister of Magic? He's who put Sirius in Azkaban?"

"He's still Minister," Erica nodded.

"That daft wanker?" James almost growled. "So, where's Sirius at now?"

"Let us get through fourth year, first," Dumbledore went on. He explained how Harry was chosen to be in the Tri-Wizard tournament and the events that began happening in the world. As Dumbledore told the story of the final event and of Cedric's death, James's eyes began watering. His fists were clinched together so tightly that they were turning white as Dumbledore told him what Harry had seen, and what had happened.

"That…that…" James couldn't talk. "My son had to…had to witness this? My _son_!"

"James, if I might say so, Harry has handled everything that has been put before him with such a magnitude of ease and self assurance, you should be proud."

"I am," James said in a barely audible tone. "I am."

"Of course, once I learned of Voldemort's return, I called back the Order," Dumbledore assured James. "We rounded up the old members that were still alive and recruited new ones. We set to work, setting up headquarters at Grimmauld Place."

"The Black's residence?" James looked horrified at the thought of working in that drafty and dark place.

"Sirius offered it to us," Dumbledore nodded. "We started our work again, just as we had before, only this time, we had Harry to worry about. His scar, again, became a concern. More so than it was before Voldemort rose again."

James listened intently as Dumbledore told of the past year's events. He scoffed at Umbridge and what she did, again mumbling things about Fudge under his breath.

"Harry was learning Occulmacy, though, correct? I mean, obviously with this scar he has and the prophecy, he must be learning it?"

Dumbledore swallowed. "There was an issue in that. It's hard to learn, James, even for a powerful wizard such as your son. And with who was teaching him, I don't believe he was giving it his all at the time. And…he didn't know about the prophecy until recently."

"What?" James looked at his old Headmaster confused. "Why didn't he know? Who was teaching him? It _is_ hard, why didn't you teach him?"

"I couldn't, James, be near him too much," Dumbledore's eyes twitched with regret and sorrow. "Not with Voldemort being too close to him. And Professor Snape was teaching him, who, as adult as he is about things now, he's still not forgotten the school grudge between-"

"SNAPE? You were letting _Severus Snape_ teach my son? Why the _hell_ would you do that?" James was outraged.

"He is very talented at Occulmacy, James; he's needed it to be our spy, both now and in the past. And it was easy to let others believe that Harry was simply going to Professor Snape's office to be tutored on Potions."

"Wait," James eyes narrowed. "Snape is a _spy_? What the hell do you mean? He was a damn Death Eater! And…why would Harry go to him for Potions tutoring? Why do you keep calling him _Professor_ Snape?"

Remus gave a slight grin. "Severus has been a professor here for some time now, James. He teaches Potions, and he's the head of the Slytherin house."

"That's fitting," James scoffed.

"Severus has changed, James. He was a spy for us back then, as well, and is able to get us vital information. However, I dare say, the events that took place recently are to be blamed, at least partially, on myself."

"What? Why? What happened?"

With a crack in his voice, Dumbledore went on to tell of the night in the Ministry. Remus grew pale again, remembering his friend. The emotions were still raw, and seeing the look on James's face made them even more real again.

James's face fell. His best friend was gone. His son had witnessed it, felt the guilt of his death. His son…he'd come so close to having something of a family, a loving one. Sirius was gone. James had missed him. Sirius had died, twice in honor of James. The first time in accepting his fate of going to Azkaban, the second in honor of fighting for what they had believed in so many years ago, and fighting for Harry. Sirius may have not had custody of Harry like James had wanted, but he'd managed to protect him and give him so much.

"He's gone…" James breathed.

"He went valiantly, James," Remus whispered.

"And Harry?" James looked up at Dumbledore. "How is Harry taking it?"

Erica cleared her throat. "Roughly, James, as expected. He's learning to deal with it, though. He's seeing me now. His first session was today."

"What?" James turned to look at Erica. "You're _'seeing'_ him? Here I am, desperately trying to get my life back and at the same time, you are seeing my son? He doesn't need a shrink! He needs me!"

James leapt from his chair with a frenzied rush of energy. He looked frantic as he surveyed the room.

"I have to see him! I need to see him. He needs me. He's not alone, I'm here. _I_ need _him_," James began pacing.

"James, we need to do this slowly and cautiously," Erica told him.

"Slowly and cautiously? Taking me to my son?" James glared at her. "I have every right to see him."

"No one is arguing that," Dumbledore stood. "But James, you must remember that Harry believes you dead. He's grown up thinking that both his father and mother are dead. It will not be easy to accept someone he does not know to be his father."

"He'll accept me," James cried hurriedly. "He has too. He'll know." James looked to Remus for reassurance.

"Prongs, you can't blame him if he doesn't at first," Remus told him.

"The lot of you are crazy!" James stomped his foot to the floor. "I want to see my son."

"Soon," Dumbledore guaranteed. "Let us get through some more of you memory, shall we?"

"Who cares about my fucking memory! My son is alive, I am alive, and I want to see him. NOW!" James cried, the tears forming in his eyes again. "I need to see him, damn it! I need to tell him…I need to tell him I love him…that I'm sorry…"

James fell to his knees and he buried his head in his hands. His sobs filled the room while the three remained motionless, none knowing really what to do.

"He knows you love him, James. It's your love and the love of Lily that has kept him going all these years," Dumbledore finally spoke.

Remus tried to smile. "He gallantly defends you and your self absorbed ways, James. He got worried once, after falling into one of Severus's memories. Remember the time after O.W.L.S, outside by the lake? He was worried that you were always like that, that you were that big of a mean prat…"

James swallowed as he looked up, his cheeks wet with burning tears.

"Sirius and I told him you were," Remus grinned. "But that wasn't all of you. And even with knowing that, he still sticks up for you. He still defends you. He's always felt the love of you and Lily in his heart."

"Why do you feel the need to apologize, James?" Erica asked him.

James's glare snapped back as he faced Erica. "For ruining his life. For the spell going wrong, for leaving him…for not being there…"

"Spell going wrong? What spell?" Dumbledore asked him.

Remus nodded. "Tell us about this spell that you and Lily were working on, James. Maybe it'll help us clear up that night. It will help us learn what did happen and how you survived."

"It doesn't matter!" James rose to his feet and yelled. "It doesn't matter because I lost everything that night when that spell went wrong! And for what? For nothing! Voldemort is back! And Harry has had to fight him! Alone! He's been alone because Lily and I thought…" His became drenched in sorrow as he spoke. "We thought…we thought that we could end it. We thought that we were bigger and better than fate…we put our child's life in the face of danger and thought we could win."

"James, it was Voldemort's decision to go after Harry and not Neville," Dumbledore reminded him. "He decided to go after Harry."

"No…we led him to us," James cried in anguish. "You don't understand! Lily and I knew that Peter was the traitor among us. We knew that when we decided to use him as our Secret Keeper, it was _why_ we did. We knew that with Peter, Voldemort would choose Harry. He was a Potter, and using Peter, he'd find us. We were waiting for him, Albus."

Albus Dumbledore's eyes slanted in curiosity. "Please, go on, James."

James sighed as he continued with his story. "I convinced Lily that we could defeat him. After we learned of the prophecy, we decided that just in case, we would begin working on something. As time passed, we became over-confident. We studied ancient magic, and worked despairingly on coming up with a plan. After we learned that Peter had gone to the dark side, we realized our time was limited. It was only a matter of time before Voldemort would strike either us or the Longbottom's in fear of the prophecy. So we had to finish the plan…we hurried."

"What was the plan, James?"

James swallowed and looked out the window. It was dark out, with clouds hanging low.

"Lily and I both learned an ancient magic that would allow us to practically die against the Avada Kadavra curse. We were banking on that being the one Voldemort would use. It was simple and quick for him. He'd attempted it before, in our battles with him. The spell would do all of these biological things to our bodies that would make it appear that we were dead. Basically, it would just about let the curse work, only it had a deep charm on it that would halt the final blow."

"That's how you survived?" Remus whispered.

James nodded. "He broke down our front door. We weren't ready, not at that moment. We had been playing with Harry, trying to teach him things downstairs when he came. Lily grabbed Harry and ran upstairs. I fought him. So hard and so long. Our battle must have lasted a while; at least it felt like it. I yelled and screamed. We dueled. He cast it on me, just like I knew he would. I barely had time to react, to think of the spell. I could only think of Lily and Harry upstairs, not knowing what was going on.

"The problem with us not being ready was we didn't have a potion ready. Lily had found some old potion that would make us invisible, enabling us to fight him. We weren't sure if it would work against him, if he'd figure us out. And it had some terrible side affects, as well. We were still trying to work those out.

"The idea was for Lily to have taken the potion while I fought Voldemort. She'd be able to be there with Harry and fight secretly as we let Voldemort 'mark' Harry. The other potion we were working on, one so old and so difficult, we had yet to hardly be able to begin it; it was a deciphering potion of a sort. It was a potion that was supposed to reveal the darkness in wizards. It would, in our thoughts had we been able to do it right, reveal what it was that Harry would posses after Voldemort marked him."

"That sounds too unbelievably perfect to even be true," Erica exhaled a held breath.

"It was, these spells and potions were beyond difficult," James explained. "Had the plan been able to have gone right, the way we saw it was that by marking Harry as his equal, much like he did, Voldemort would _lose_ something and pass it to Harry. We were banking on the thought that Voldemort would realize this immediately and not be able to further harm, or attempt to harm Harry and flee the scene. He would have never seen Lily, and even had he sensed her, she was quick and agile enough to hopefully been able to avoid him. If my spell had worked, I'd have lived, like I did, and woken up within hours of casting it. We'd be alive, Harry would be, and we'd be able to figure out what it was that Harry possessed now that he was marked as Voldemort's equal. Thus, enabling us to better prepare for what Harry's future was going to hold for him.

We then had planned on having a new Secret Keeper and going into hiding again, somewhere else until Harry was ready to fight."

James's audience was speechless after he finished his side of the story. He felt horrible. He had never felt so guilty and as ashamed in his life as he did at that moment. He put his son's life at risk that night, on purpose, just because he and Lily thought they had an unbeatable plan.

But they hadn't, and because of James's ardent confidence, and how he'd managed to convince Lily of it too, their son had grown up without either one of them there for comfort, guidance, love…

"James, why didn't you share this plan with anyone else?" Dumbledore asked him.

James shook his head. "I told you, we were over confident about it. You all know me and my conceited thoughts, I had Lily convinced that we could master these spells and potions. And once it got into her head…we just wanted…if we told anyone…" James's tears started again as he took a moment to catch his breath. "We, no, _I_ knew that if we told anyone you'd try and stop us. You'd make us see how zealous and outrageous the plan was…"

"We could have helped," Remus told him.

James's breathing hardened. He pursed his lips and glared out the window. "You don't get it, do you? It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what Lily or I _could_ have done, it's what we _did do_ that matters. We messed up. We risked everything and…and lost. We disappointed Harry, and he doesn't even realize it yet."

He swallowed and turned towards the door. He stopped in the doorway and looked up towards the high ceilings. With a crack in his voice, he spoke.

"You should have left me. Rosmerta should have never found me. You should have left me to spend the rest of my living days wondering, suffering. I'm better off…Harry's…Harry's better off thinking that I am dead…he deserves a father…a…he deserves a father that would make the right decisions."

James quietly shut the door behind as he left Dumbledore's office.

* * *

James walked. He walked the castle and the grounds for what seemed an eternity. He had hoped that walking would clear his mind and let him think, but so far, he'd done nothing but depress himself further.

The way he saw it, regaining his old life back had given him a few things and the only two good things he could see out of it was Remus and knowing that his son was alive and well.

Nothing else seemed worth coming back for. He missed Tiffany. He missed the late nights at the bar, the movies, the walks around the city, and the never-ending game of chess they had. He missed sitting in the library for hours searching anything that could have been a clue and then going to an all night café and making up his past with her.

He missed innocence.

It was something that James Brian Potter had left behind many, many years ago. It was something that Evan Gryffin had tried to hold on to, not knowing what else there could be. It was something that either as a muggle or a wizard, life gave up too easily.

James wanted it back.

He wanted to go back fifteen years. He wanted to hold Lily in his arms, smell her hair, and see her dancing eyes swirling in the light. He wanted to twirl her around in the snow, tickle her, make her laugh, and show that dazzling smile she possessed.

James wanted his baby son back, complete with his head full of unruly black hair and the chubby cheeks. He wanted to teach his son how to successfully pull pranks on his unsuspecting mother, how to fly and the rules to Quidditch. He wanted to watch Harry take his first steps again, and hear his first words. He wanted to hear Harry ask why and how so many times that Sirius would throw himself down the stairs, making Harry laugh and…ask why.

He wanted to be there when Harry received his Hogwarts acceptance letter, and celebrate with him. He wanted to be the one to take him to Diagon Alley and buy his school supplies. He wanted to first-handedly hear the tales of Harry at school, find out his house, hear of him passing his classes, pranking his enemies…

James wanted to celebrate Christmas with Harry and Lily. He wanted for Sirius and Remus to show up on Christmas day, with their own families for a hearty meal that Lily would slave over, loving every minute of it. He wanted his parents there; his mother smiling over Harry and his father trying to tell made up stories to his grandson. He wanted Peter there, before he'd fallen into the depths of dark arts.

James wanted the life that he didn't get, that he'd never have. He did not want to face his son now, after ruining his life in so many ways. He didn't want to keep living without Lily by his side. He didn't want to face the world without his best friend, his brother.

James found himself in the Quidditch pitch. He sat on the ground, gazed at the hazy sky, and let the tears fall silently down his cheeks again.

What if they were right? What if Harry would want nothing to do with him? What if he couldn't accept that James was alive and his father? What if, after finding out what really happened that night, Harry wanted nothing more than to just forget him, to forget the memory of Lily? What if he hated them?

He had every right to, James thought.

James was glad that Harry had friends. He was glad that Harry seemed adjusted enough to accept his fate and his role in life. He silently thanked the Weasley's for taking him in and caring for him. And against his own feelings of dislike, he thanked Petunia Evans-Dursley for taking Harry into her household and giving him shelter and safety.

James thought to what Lily might think if she were alive to find out her sister had been raising their son. He wasn't sure what her reaction would have been. He knew an initial reaction would have been much like his own, knowing how Vernon felt about them. But, something told James that Petunia had a choice when she had found Harry on her doorstep, and she could have refused. She had accepted this role, and that would have made Lily happy, optimistic.

But still, Sirius should have been the one. Sirius should have had the chance at raising Harry. James knew in his heart that Sirius would have been wonderful. He would have cared for Harry as if Harry had been his own. Just in that mere year they all had together, Sirius was elated with Harry. James and Sirius had so many plans, so many ideas for Harry.

But Sirius was gone. Sirius never got the chance even while he had been alive. Peter had _framed_ him.

Anger soared through James's veins. Lily had been the first to bring up the possibility that Peter was the one who had betrayed them. James had refused to believe it at first. He couldn't accept the idea that one of his closest mates would turn…when Sirius thought it was Remus, James reacted the same way. There was no way.

But then James watched them. He watched and paid attention to the way that Peter acted, the way he was so much more aloof, how he was always asking so many questions, making sure he understood things. He disappeared a lot, more so than he had previously. James knew then. He was the weak one, the one who had always been so desperate for attention, for a place to fit…

James hadn't known what to do with himself when he found out. He was so upset, mad, hurt…broken. It had been a blow to his ego; Peter had always looked up to James, followed him.

After his initial reaction of anger, James became depressed over the situation. Had James taken advantage of Peter all those years? Had Peter never truly felt accepted, or a part of the group? Where had they gone wrong with him?

Lily was the rational thinker and pulled James out of his despair. It didn't matter anymore _why_ Peter had turned against them, the fact was that he had and they had to deal with that.

That's when they realized they had a choice. What they should have done, James realized now as he lay back on the pitch and stared at the empty, black sky, was that they should have gone straight to Dumbledore. They should have been upfront and honest about their discovery. Albus would have known how to deal with it. It could have…it could have changed many things, ended things then, for all James knew.

But James's personal vendetta for revenge against his old friend took the best of him. It was him, then, that began thinking of the plan. It was then that James thought not only could they possibly manage to beat Voldemort at his own game and be able to better prepare Harry, but James could throw it all back in Peter's face.

James wanted to take them down, both of them; he wanted to be a part of it. And he had convinced Lily that this plan was fool proof. Once he had Lily convinced, there was no turning back. Lily believed in James, and stood beside him in all decisions. She agreed with him, this was the best route to go. They were Lily and James Potter, thrice survived Voldemort already, lived through un-measurably torrid situations and were strong. They were smart, the Heads of their year, graduated with best marks; they, as James so often had put it, were perfect.

Only they weren't. And now? So many had to suffer from James's mistakes, from his conceited thoughts, and the ones who had suffered the most where the ones he had loved the most.

Merlin, what he wouldn't give to go back and change things. He would do things right if he could go back. He'd risk an uncertain future if it meant he'd have his family and friends back with him. If it meant that he could have what had truly once mattered before revenge had taken over his soul.

Did he really want Harry to meet him like this? Was it fair to him? Or was it fair for him to go on believing what wasn't the truth about his parents? James released an uneven sigh. No, it wasn't fair to Harry to not know. It wasn't fair to Lily's memory that James didn't stand up like the man that he should be and accept the blame and consequences. It wasn't fair to Sirius who had given up his life, not knowing the truth, either.

James couldn't go back in time and change anything. He knew that. He had to do it right this time; there wasn't any more room for mistakes. He didn't care what Erica or Albus thought, hell, he didn't even care what Remus thought; he was going to find his son. He was going to see him and…he was going to look into his eyes that were like his mothers…he was going to witness the messy hair that he knew so well…he was going to tell him the truth.

James sat up, his face frozen in a look of determination. Harry, with or without James by his side, was going to defeat Voldemort once and for all. Tom Riddle was not the only wizard or muggle, or human of any kind…or _being_ of any kind that hadn't had a happy childhood. He wasn't the only creature on this earth that should have had what he never got, but James would be damned if he'd let Voldemort ruin any more lives.

James reached in his pocket and realized that he still didn't have a wand. He had to get one; his old one, a new one, _anyone's_ would do. He needed to remember how to apparate. He needed a quick refresher course on simple spells and charms. It'd come back to him, he just needed to jog his memory.

The innocence might be gone for him, and it might be gone already for Harry, but no more needed to live against the cruelty of the dark arts anymore.

The Potter's would finish what they started, and they would win.

* * *

**_...huggles n cookies..._**

**_...missers... _**


	9. Still Here

**05.05.05 – Ch. 9 edited and lyrics removed. Love to all.**

**:passes out popcorn, cookies, and drinks:**

**

* * *

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**Chapter Nine – Still Here**

**4:55am**

James leaned back in the chair, stretching his legs out and yawning. He had no idea what time it was, but looking out the window nearest him, he could see that the sun was beginning to come up.

He picked up his quill and flipped through a few more pages of the big, dusty book he'd been studying for the last couple of hours. After a lot of walking and a lot of thinking, James had decided his next course of action would be a refresher course in 'how to be a wizard' thanks to the Hogwarts library and restricted section. Lucky for him, Madam Pince was currently on holiday and no one had seemed to be too bothered to look for him throughout the night.

He was amazed with all the spells, facts, words…everything that was coming back to him. It felt like for a moment, when he wasn't thinking about reality, that he'd never left in the first place. This was his home, this was his life, and now he was sure of that.

He stopped on a page and began reading, his eyes glazing over from being so tired. He felt like he was studying for N.E.W.T.S all over again. He sat upright when he realized he'd closed his eyes.

Running a hand up his face, he looked to the big clock hanging on the wall. 4:57 am. He'd been in the library since at least ten the night before.

It was time to do something. Sitting here was not going to change anything. Sitting here was not finding Harry.

He slammed the book shut and stood, stretching again. He thought about putting the books back where he'd found them, but decided against it. He had more important things to do.

It had been exactly one thirteen in the morning when it hit him where he'd probably be able to find his son. Albus was good, but he wasn't always that good. He'd said where the Order's headquarters was and never mentioned anything about it changing. Sirius had offered the house and James imagined it was still in use.

Harry had to be there.

And that was exactly where James was going.

**5:17am**

Remus yawned as he walked out of the bathroom from his morning shower. He'd promised Albus that he'd return to Hogwarts bright and early in hopes of finding James and continuing their talks that he'd so abruptly walked out on the day before.

Remus had barely gotten a wink's sleep. He tossed and turned the entire night, replaying over and over the previous day's events. He'd spent the day with James Potter, _the_ James Potter. James was alive and healthy and had hardly changed at all.

Thinking of James made Remus smile instantly. They still had so much catching up to do, so many memories to relive and laugh about. But first, Remus's smile faded leaving his mouth in a straight and serious line; they had to deal with the current situation.

Remus and Erica needed to prep James and Harry for meeting one another. Albus wanted more details on the spells that James and Lily had used, or attempted to use in some cases. James needed to be fully briefed on events relating to Voldemort, the prophecy, the Ministry…James needed to fully walk back into the life of being a wizard, the Ministry needed to know that he was alive…

There was so much to do. But Remus knew that none of these things were going to happen in any sort of organized fashion. Remus knew that James was the type of person to react on emotions first, and thoughts later.

He was guessing that James had left Albus's office the day before and did a lot of thinking. He'd always walked away to be alone when he needed to think. What sort of conclusion he'd come to was what was worrying Remus now.

Remus wandered down the stairs and quietly slipped out the door. He looked around and saw that nothing seemed awake yet; no one was around or out and about.

Satisfied that things looked okay, Remus nodded to Kingsley Shacklebolt who was keeping watch for the Order at the moment and apparated to Hogsmead.

He looked at his watch once he appeared in front of the post office. It was almost half past five and he told Albus he'd be at the school by six. He had just enough time to walk to the school without being in a hurry.

His mind wandered as he walked, thinking of the past and the possible future. He tried to envision how Harry was going to react when finding out about James being alive. He hoped, for the sake of both of them, that it would be an easy transition. They were both Potters though, and no doubt, it wasn't going to be easy.

As Remus strolled past a patch of trees, he heard a noise and stopped. The noise stopped. Remus peered towards the trees with his hand near his pocket, ready to grab his wand. He took a few steps closer and heard what sounded like hooves beating against the ground and leaves rustling.

"It's just an animal, Remus," he shook his head. "Where are your senses at?" He relaxed and started to walk again, admiring the rising sun.

"Wait," Remus stopped and sniffed the air. Something didn't feel right. There was a familiar scent in the air that he couldn't place. It was a scent that dared to take him back to the past if he could recognize it.

He turned around and looked into the trees again.

"No…" he said out loud. "James wouldn't be stupid enough…"

Remus turned and walked at a faster pace, the lazy morning stroll long forgotten as he made his way to the castle.

The beautiful, tall, white stag cautiously peered from behind the large tree. The man on the street was practically running down the road now, in the opposite direction. The stag tilted his head sideways and watched the man for a few moments.

He couldn't turn back now; he had already made his decision.

The stag stomped a hoof on the ground as if he was making a point before he trotted down the road towards the small town.

**6:10 am**

Harry woke with a start and sat up in bed. One hand instantly rose to his scar while the other reached for his glasses. He didn't rub his scar; it didn't _hurt_, per say, but it felt funny. He touched it, feeling a strange sensation.

He put his glasses on and realized that he had broken out into a cold sweat. He swallowed and glanced around the room. Ron was sound asleep in the bed on the other side of the room, snoring softly.

Harry's heart was pumping wildly and he felt a headache coming on. He wasn't going to get back to sleep so he decided to get up.

Harry jumped into the shower, got ready for the day and was heading downstairs when he noticed the strange sensation seemed to get…stronger? Harry stopped on the stairs and leaned against the wall with his eyes close. What was going on?

This did not feel like any anxiety or pain that he usually felt when Voldemort was trying to read his mind. This was different. It was almost calming; his headache was already subsiding. He felt as though he'd just had some sort of rush, like that last leg of the roller coaster ride, after all the dips and rolls and your excited, exhilarated and happy. He had all these feelings just in his scar.

He shook his head, trying to shake the feelings away. He started for the kitchen but heard Molly's voice and the clinging of dishes. He wasn't in the mood to explain his early rise from bed, so instead he decided to sneak outside for some fresh air.

Harry found a tree to sit under and lean against with a perfect view of the sun rising over the tops of buildings. He settled into a spot and sighed. He supposed this was an event worth mentioning to Dumbledore, Remus perhaps, at least. He could easily mention it to Erica as well during their next meeting, which was the following day he remembered.

But for some reason, this was something that he just didn't feel like sharing. He wasn't even sure if he felt the need to tell Hermione or Ron. If he did, they'd insist on telling Dumbledore anyway, so what was the point?

Harry leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling relaxed. He was perplexed and felt as if something monumental would be happening, but he wasn't worried about it. The thought was a bit unsettling, but again, he just wasn't worried.

**6:13 am**

"Ha-ha!" James laughed. He'd done it! He managed to apparate! The huge grin on his face caused a few looks as he walked out of the alley in the heart of London, but he didn't care. All it had taken was reading a few paragraphs about it, and he managed to do it; _and_ arrive with no body parts missing.

"_Now_," he thought as he strode down the sidewalk. "_Getting around London is something I can do with no problem._" He stopped on a busy corner and thought about his direction. "_My apartment is that way…The Leaky Cauldron would be…in that direction…and if I wanted to get..._" He stopped and smiled again.

"Hell, I might as well apparate there, too," he laughed out loud.

Sometimes, it felt really good to be a wizard.

**6:19 am**

"We can't find him anywhere in the castle, Albus," Minerva McGonagall raced into the Great Hall, short of breath.

Albus swallowed and nodded just as Remus walked through the doorway as well.

"I checked all of his old spots that I could think of," Remus said. "I really think it was him that I sensed out there."

"In his animagus form?" Albus asked him, just to be sure.

Remus nodded, "I'm almost positive."

"Has anyone checked the library?" Hagrid asked.

No one had and instantly Remus was out the door and on his way. The moment he'd arrived at the castle he found Dumbledore and told him of his peculiar walk to the castle. Albus had immediately gotten worried that James was wandering off too far and woke everyone up to look for him. If word got out that James was alive to the wrong people…well, Albus didn't want to think about that just yet. Besides, if James _had_ left the grounds, both he and Remus knew what mission he'd be on.

Remus threw open the library door, "James?" He walked briskly in and started running up and down the aisles. "Prongs? Prongs, are you in here?"

There was no sign of anyone until he heard something drop near the restricted section. Remus turned and jogged that direction.

"Hello?" He didn't see anyone, but noticed that a table had books of all sorts open all over the top of it. Remus started for the table when he saw Peeves floating around the clock.

"Peeves," Remus spoke in an authoritive voice. "Has anyone been in the library this morning?"

Peeves cackled, "Messy, messy, leaving a mess. He left in a hurry an hour ago." Peeves floated off, knocking books off shelves as he went.

Remus rolled his eyes and walked up to the table. He scanned over the books lying about and bit his lip.

The last book he picked up was on Apparating. It was the same book the four had studied years ago when preparing for their test. There was a parchment lying on the table underneath all the books with scratchy, familiar handwriting. Notes were written all over it. The first thing Remus noticed was the ever-common initials scrawled in the top corner.

What made Remus pale was what was in the middle of the page, circled and underlined.

_Harry James Potter – The Order Headquarters, Grimmauld Place, Number 12, Sirius_

**6:24 am**

He stood across the street. The house was not there. It was supposed to be there. It should have been _right_ there, but he couldn't see it. He was in the right place; he knew it without a doubt. Number 10, number 11, number 13…

He'd been here quite a few times with Sirius, to get Sirius, to help him. His family knew of the Blacks anyway, before he and Sirius had became mates. He knew this was the place.

"Damn it!" James cursed. "The Fidelius charm. Shit."

James kneeled down behind some trashcans to think. A muggle car drove by the street blaring loud music. A few houses down James could hear what sounded like a couple having a very loud argument.

James closed his eyes. There had to be a way around this…he just had to think. He _knew_ the house was there, he _knew_ it was the Headquarters…Dumbledore had been the one to tell him…it should work; he should be able to see it.

James stood up cautiously and looked around. He didn't see anyone so he took his chance and jogged across the street. He stopped between houses 11 and 13.

"Well, the front door isn't appearing," James sighed. He licked his lips and nodded his head. "Okay, we'll get passed this."

He walked around to the far side of Number 11 and snuck past the trashcans, the muggle car and the open window and into the back yard. It, too, was trashed, and there were high hedges blocking the back yard of what should have been Number 12.

James smiled. He'd never forget the big oak tree that was in the backyard of Grimmauld Place; Sirius and he had managed to hang Regulus from his robes in it one evening after sparring with the little wanker.

Sure enough, the house was right there.

**6:26 am**

Harry thought he heard a noise and looked around. He didn't see anything and decided it was probably just some old alley cats rustling around looking for food. He relaxed against the tree again; glad for the peace and quiet the early morning was bringing him.

Perhaps this was the reason his scar had woken him up. He just needed a tantalizing and peaceful few minutes to clear his mind so that he'd be able to focus today. He'd promised Hermione that he would work on his occulmacy today and that always wore him out.

He thought he heard the noise again, but he still didn't see anything. Shrugging, he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.

**6:27 am**

James's heart was racing. He felt as though his chest was going to explode any moment. He wanted to cry. He wanted to yell and laugh and run. He wanted to run straight for that damn tree and grab the young man sitting under it and pull him into a bone-crushing hug.

James swallowed and realized that he wasn't breathing. He shook his head and widened his eyes. He looked exactly like him. It was like looking at a memory of himself in a pensive, a memory from when James was sixteen.

His son looked so relaxed on this lazy summer morning. James watched him run a hand through his dark, thick, messy hair and adjust his round-rimmed glasses. He was watching the sunrise over the trees and buildings, looking like he was thinking.

The tears began to fall from James's eyes. There he was. There was Harry, his son. He looked like he was a bit tall and skinny. His shoes were worn, James noticed. His face looked young but he had this feel around him that seemed so much older than sixteen.

James watched him, not daring to move, hardly wanting to breathe and run the risk of Harry disappearing. He didn't want to lose this moment. He'd missed so much, so much of his boy's life. He wasn't even a boy anymore, James thought. He was much more a man than he should be.

James heard a door shut and watched as a young woman about the age of Harry with wild and untamed hair walk out slowly towards Harry. She hesitated as she approached him but she seemed to have a caring look adorning her face.

Harry sat up straighter and said something to the girl. James strained his ears to hear his voice. He wanted to, no, he _needed_ to hear his son's voice. The girl replied and James watched his son seem to grow agitated. Harry picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it in front of him. The girl seemed to sigh and look up towards the sky before she said one last thing to him and walked back towards the house.

Harry put his head back against the tree and James closed his eyes.

It hurt so much to see this pain his son was in. This torture he seemed to endure.

When James opened his eyes, Harry was standing up. He was kicking at the dirt with his hands in his pocket. James smiled momentarily, wondering if that's what he must have looked like to Lily when he'd get frustrated and walk away.

The thought of Lily took the smile away as quickly as it had come. Here he was, watching his son, but Lily couldn't do that. Lily was gone and would never have the chance to witness Harry, grown and so…real.

James's heart began to pound with nervousness. What was he going to say? How was he going to do this? Was he just going to walk up to him? What would Harry do? Run? Yell? Not believe him…

James stood up, his whole body shaking and took a deep breath.

He let out the air and his heart filled with courage.

**6:31 am**

Remus stopped to catch his breath. He was getting too old to run that hard. He made it to the gate of the school and walked around to the outside. He had no idea what he was doing, but he had to get there, and soon.

**6:32 am**

"Harry? Harry, are you out here?" Ron yelled.

Harry sighed and leaned against the tree again. Hermione had to go and tell everyone that he was out here, didn't she? Why couldn't he just have a few moments to himself these days? They were all too worried about him. Anything could happen to him, even outside behind the house and it was getting on his nerves.

"Yeah," Harry answered back.

"Hermione said she was worried about you," Ron walked over to Harry, still in his pajamas.

"Why? Because I couldn't sleep as usual and came out for some fresh air? I could go outside at the Dursley's, what's the difference?" Harry snapped.

"Listen, mate, I just…I just thought I'd check on you," Ron stumbled out.

"I don't need _checking_ on," Harry angered. He saw the look in his friends face, though, and felt bad. His friends were just worried. "I'm okay, mate, I am. I'll be in for breakfast."

Ron nodded, "Mum's starting it now, it seems as though no one could sleep this morning. Even Fred and George are awake already."

Harry smiled, "Maybe we can play some Quidditch later on?"

"Yeah…yeah, that sounds good," Ron smiled back and jogged into the house.

Harry sighed again and turned back to watching the sky. It was orange with hints of pinks and reds as the sun became stronger and higher.

"Youngest Seeker in over a hundred years, right?" A voice from the bushes said.

Harry jumped, startled at the voice. His hand instantly reached for his wand as he peered towards the darkened shrubs.

"Who's there?"

"Someone who is more proud of you than he can explain," came the voice, soft and nervous sounding.

Harry gulped, unsure of whom it could be. He narrowed his eyes as he took a precautious step towards the hedge. "Show yourself."

Harry dropped his wand and his face paled when the man stepped out. His black hair messier than even Harry's, his own glasses askew, and his face as pale as Harry's had turned.

"Harry," James chewed on his bottom lip as he watched the reaction of his son.

**6:35 am**

"Where's Harry?" Remus came running into the house, not paying any attention as Mrs. Black started screaming and yelling.

"Remus?" Molly turned toward the hallway where Remus was sprinting down. "What's wrong?"

Remus stopped in the kitchen, "Where's Harry? Is he - still in bed?"

"What's going on?" Arthur came barreling down the stairs seconds after Remus.

"I – need – to – find – Harry," Remus got out between gasping breaths.

"Well, what's wrong? Is something the matter?" Molly asked, getting worried.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny came into the kitchen, knowing something was going on from the yelling and cursing going on in the hallway.

Remus looked to them, "Harry?"

"Outside," Ron pointed.

"Is he alone?" Remus asked as he started for the door.

"Yeah," Ron answered slowly.

"Remus Lupin! What the bloody hell is going on?" Molly yelled at the man.

"Just…stay inside and let me…let me talk to Harry," Remus sighed and turned the doorknob.

He walked outside and saw that he was too late.

**6:36 am**

"W-w-who are you?" Harry picked up his wand and pointed it at the man who looked so much like him.

"I'm…it's me, Harry, I…it's your father," James stuttered out, unsure of the right explanation.

"My father is dead," Harry angrily told the man. "WHO ARE YOU?"

"Harry, I know it's hard to believe, but it really is me, it is," James rushed out. He took a few steps towards Harry, but Harry backed off, his wand still pointed at James.

"DON'T move," Harry demanded.

James stopped, realizing the intensity of what he'd just done. He swallowed and thought that here he was, again, just thinking of himself. He had just thought of _his_ need to see Harry, and not what it could do to Harry.

He shook his head to rid his mind of those thoughts. No, he had every damn right to see his son and for his son to meet him. To know him.

"Harry, if you'd let me, I can explain everything…" James titled his head and his eyes squinted, trying to focus on every detail of Harry. This was his flesh and blood, his offspring and he wanted to memorize every speck of him, just as he had done when Harry was a baby.

"My – father – is – DEAD," Harry said through clenched teeth. "Who are you? Did Voldemort send you?"

James's eyes widened, "That right bastard? Harry, Merlin! I swear to you I'm your father. I…I never died, I've been living as a muggle with out my memory, but Rosmerta, you know her, she found me…and…"

Harry eyed James with speculation, "No one else survived besides me. It's impossible. My parents died that night…I KNOW IT!"

"Please, Harry," James begged. There were tears in his eyes again, pain in his voice as he fell to his knees and stared at his son. "You don't have to like me, you don't have to let me in your life, but please believe me…"

"N-n-no…" Harry whispered, unsure of his own emotions anymore. This man, he looked so much like the pictures, so much like Harry himself…but it was impossible!

"Ask me anything," James pleaded. "Anything…tell me about Sirius before…before…Merlin! Harry…you're eyes…you're eyes…" James fell further to the ground and felt light headed. Harry's eyes were so much like Lily's…

"WHO ARE YOU?" Harry yelled.

"Harry, he's your father," came a calm and familiar voice behind Harry.

Harry twirled around and saw Remus standing there. His face was torn between a worried and pained expression and a calm, accepting one. Harry shook his head and backed further away, away from both of these crazy men.

"No…you…you aren't Remus then, no, my father is DEAD!" Harry's voice became shaky.

Remus nodded, "You're father was dead, Harry, we all thought he was dead…but…he's not. He's right before you, in flesh and blood, fully alive…he survived that night, just as you did, only he lost everything, including his memory…he's had nothing for fifteen years, Harry…it's him…"

Harry glared at Remus with wide eyes before sharply looking back at his so-called father. James had risen to his feet, his face wet from tears. He was looking at Harry with such…hope and love and curiosity…

"How…h-how do I know this isn't some sick prank? Or some trick? How do I know this is real? It's impossible!" Harry argued.

Remus took a step towards Harry, "I know it seems impossible, Harry, but it's real. I know that it's hard to understand and that your scared, but I'm telling you the truth. Dumbledore knows. James has been at Hogwarts all week, recapturing his memory, regaining who he once was…he…he thought you were dead until yesterday when I told him you weren't…"

Harry looked at James again and stared. There was silence. For what seemed an eternity, there was silence.

**6:45 am**

"Dumbledore!" Molly jumped in surprise when Albus walked into the kitchen followed by Minerva McGonagall. "Sir, what is going on? What is wrong with Harry?"

"There will be plenty of time for explanation," Albus nodded his head. "May I ask where they are?"

All the kids pointed to the back door, all curious and confused as to what was going on. Albus smiled and gave them a wink as he headed for the door, "Minerva, I'm sure you can begin some sort of explanation."

Albus slowly walked outside and found the three men staring at each other. James looked worn, Remus looked worried and Harry…well, Harry was still pointing a wand at his father and just looking at him. Albus noticed that Harry's arm was beginning to shake.

"Harry, you can put your wand away," Albus commanded.

Harry turned towards his Headmaster and glared, "W-what?"

"You may stop threatening your father with your wand, now," Albus repeated. "Although, I'm sure that would have been a rather frequent habit the two of you would have had. James and Sirius could never quite stop from hexing each other and they were the best of friends."

Harry hesitantly let his arm fall to his side. He looked back towards James who licked his lips.

"Harry, I'm sorry…I'm so sorry about so much…but I had to see you…I had to know that you were…you were…" James couldn't finish even one of his thoughts.

"How -- why should I believe any of this?" Harry questioned. He looked back and forth between the three, wondering if this was some sort of test, wondering if any of the men before him were even who they appeared to be.

Remus looked to James, "Prongs, this is why we wanted time; this is why we wanted you to wait. He's not prepared…you aren't…"

James shook his head, "No, fifteen years was too long. I had to see him. Harry knows it, deep in his heart, don't you, Harry? You know who I am. You've seen me in your dreams. I've been in your thoughts all your life. You have pictures of me…you've felt my presence along with your mum's…you know it's me."

"But you – you're, dead, you're supposed to be dead! How'd any of the…how did… the spell? But, you came out of my wand! I saw you in the mirror!" Harry kept shaking his head.

James took a few steps towards Harry, "I don't know, Harry. I don't know any of what you're talking about, but I want to. I want to know everything. I want to be…be here, for you. If…after hearing my side, you'll let me. You need to know things, you need to know what really happened to your mother and myself that night…you need to know how much she loved you…you need to know…how…much…how much I love you…"

Harry's temperament faded as his father came closer. His scar…it gave him that strange sensation again, the one that had woken him up such a short time ago. He put a hand to it again and squinted.

"Harry?" Remus looked at him.

"My scar…it's…been…not hurting but…" he looked into the eyes of the man approaching him. The hazel eyes that looked so haunted yet so happy. Harry felt a sensation of familiarity that he'd never felt before.

James stopped just inches away from Harry and looked into his green eyes. They reminded him so much of Lily's that it made James shiver. He swallowed and reached out a hand to Harry.

Harry dared not move as James's hand came to rest on the top of his head. James ran it down his cheek and stopped, making Harry look up and at him. He took his forefinger and gently rubbed it across Harry's scar.

Harry blinked and shuddered, the feeling so immense. He gazed back, "Dad?"

* * *

_**...huggles n cookies...**_

_**...missers... **_


	10. Beginnings

**Chapter Ten – Beginnings**

**_We will either find a way, or make one._ _-_Hannibal**

Dead people didn't just get up and walk into one's life on any chosen day. And the loved ones of said dead person didn't, after having no memory of knowing them, up and call them by their parental name that quickly. It just didn't happen.

And it absolutely never happened at the most perfect time. Maybe if someone believed in fairytales, they might believe that this could happen. Maybe if they believed that every story had a happy ending, they might believe that this could happen. Maybe, if they believed with all their heart and soul that sometimes, wishes really do come true, they'd believe that this could happen. Maybe they'd believe that this _did_ happen.

It was too perfect. In a matter of mere minutes, father and son had looked into one another's eyes, touched, and felt it. They knew it was real. They knew that they stood before each other, both alive, both breathing.

James could feel his heart in his throat as it sunk in. Harry had called him Dad. His Harry. His son, Harry, had called him Dad. The tears rushed down James's cheeks and his hand slowly fell from Harry's face.

Harry's eyes swelled with tears. His heart was racing; beating so fast that he was sure everyone in London could hear it. The hazel eyes he stared into felt so familiar. They felt reassuring and protective. They gave him a feeling that was unfamiliar, yet, felt so right and comfortable. His touch – it was something that Harry couldn't have imagined. Nothing had felt so right in so long.

"Harry," James whispered so softly that only Harry could hear him. Or maybe Harry couldn't hear him, but he knew what was said.

Harry reached out and grabbed his father's trembling hand with his own wavering one. He looked down to examine the older version of his own palm. They were gentle, gentle enough to have a caring hold, yet rough and used. They were rough in just the right places from riding brooms, rough from years of abuse.

Harry's gaze returned to James's eyes. There was so much emotion behind the glasses, so much to learn from. Their eyes may have been different colors, but they both held the same stare. The look was the same.

Their hair: Harry ran a hand quickly through his own while nervously looking over James. Harry recognized the same stray strands of hair that gave him problems on the head opposite him. Their ears were similar, their noses…Harry really felt as though he were looking into a mirror.

"Th-th-this…this can't…be," Harry stuttered.

James swallowed. He felt like Harry had been staring at him for an eternity. He nodded, a slight upper curve taking hold to his lips.

"It's true, Harry. It's true."

The words were barely audible. They weren't long or exquisite. There was no more to them than what they were, yet they meant so much.

The sun was still rising in the east; brightly and brilliantly, its rays shone through the leaves of the big oak they stood under. A few wispy white clouds fluttered along the brightening sky as a slight breeze blew through the trees. Birds were chirping, feeding their young and calling out to their mates. The bees began to buzz, hopping from one flower to another, beginning the days work.

In the distance, the city traffic was coming alive. The roaring of car engines and the honks of horns sounded through the crowding streets. People were rising, fixing breakfast, getting ready for work and wishing loved ones a good day.

Somewhere, kids were waking up to watch cartoons and enjoy their summer day. Families were gathering their belongings to leave or return from holiday. People were going to the zoo to see the animals. They were going to the park and visiting museums.

Some people were having the start to a normal day, others, the start of a great day. Even still, others would unfortunately have a bad day, a day they might hope to forget even occurred. Surely, there were people weeping, hurt, and dreading what was before them.

But in the simple backyard of Grimmauld Place, where for so long an evil stench lived, a feeling of unwelcomeness and unlovingness hung; a place where many memories of both good and bad rested, something truly amazing was occurring. A day beyond brilliance was beginning. A day that would mark a new future, a new life, a new beginning was starting. A day that would stand with so many emotions that it couldn't be properly told of had begun.

"Merlin," James chuckled. "I…I just…there's so many things." James stopped and took a deep breath. "There are just so many things that I want to say to you."

"How…?" Harry's tongue felt heavy. He cleared his throat. "How'd you…survive?"

James let out a low laugh and looked up to the sky. He blinked a few times, trying to dry his eyes as he shook his head. He looked back at Harry, who stood at just a bit shorter than him, just a bit, and cupped his hand around his chin. He rubbed his chin while thinking and pursed his lips together before he replied.

"I didn't," he finally answered. "My soul died that night. The moment my mind knew…thought, that you and…that you and…you and your mum had…died. I woke up and didn't know anything. I didn't know who I was…what I'd lost," James looked to the ground, the tears back again. He sniffed and looked into his son's green eyes. "Or what I hadn't lost. They found me, began to bring me back to life…" He pointed his elbow towards Remus and Dumbledore without tearing his gaze from Harry's. "But you just resurrected me, Harry. You just brought me back to life."

"I…I…don't know what to say," Harry replied, mesmerized by the man before him.

"Your eyes, Harry, they-"

"Are exactly like my mum's," Harry finished. Everyone told him that, of course his father would too.

James nodded, "Well, yeah, but…they haven't changed. They have, wiser, seen so much, but…they're as playful as they were…"

Harry blinked, unsure of what a child was supposed to say to his father after fifteen years of thinking he was dead.

"And your Mum, she'd be laughing at you, you know, with your hair…" James continued, transfixed with thoughts.

Harry felt the now familiar welling up in his eyes. "Why didn't she…?"

James closed his eyes. He took in the scent of the early morning, the presence of his son, and the emotions. He could feel her and if he dared, he could almost see her. She loved the mornings. The new day always brought with it a new chance. Ever since their final year at Hogwarts, Lily had an unexplainable love for sunrises. Her favorite days were ones that started with morning such as this.

James could see her standing near them with her red locks flowing in the breeze. Her green eyes were sparkling in the sunlight and her laughing smile spoke more than a thousand words. If she could have, she'd grab both James and Harry by the hands and lead them into a jog across the green grass. She'd twirl and laugh until she fell. She'd remind them what a perfect morning it was for flying. What a perfect morning it was for being happy, for being together, for being alive.

James could feel her. He could feel her happiness, wherever she was. She was with him, she always had been. They'd promised to never leave each other's side, and she'd kept that promise to him. She'd watched him struggle with finding himself and she'd watched over their son. She'd kept them both safe so that one day, _today_, they could be brought back together.

It was time, and the timing was right. The timing was perfect. It _was_ too perfect to be real because only magic could make something this wonderful happen. It was a magic greater than the magic they used everyday. It was the magic of love.

James opened his eyes and stared straight into Harry's.

"Your Mum was the most amazing thing to walk this earth, you know. She was scared and she made mistakes and she had this temper," James smiled. "But she was full, so _full_ of love. And hope. She always had hope and she always believed, Harry. She always believed that the right things would win; would come out on top. She gave her all when she did anything. Most parents, they say they'll protect their children 'till their dying day. Not your Mum, Harry. She's still protecting you. She loved you with everything that she was…that she is. She didn't…survive, Harry, because she couldn't. She'd done everything she could, everything that she was supposed to do…"

James broke off with a sob. He turned toward the tree and leaned against it, one arm holding him self up, the other covering his face.

In a muffled tone that Harry could just make out, James continued, "It's like…for the past fifteen years a part of me died everyday. I knew I was missing something so great and irreplaceable…I just didn't know _what_. And I died not knowing. And then to remember…to know…it's like accepting it all over again, because I never got the chance to before…"

"Harry, it wasn't supposed to happen like this," James suddenly turned towards his son. His face was wet from the tears but his look held determination. "This isn't what our lives are supposed to be like. He took it all away…he mangled what wasn't his…you should have had us your whole life, Harry…not just me, a failure, now…too late…"

Harry watched his father brake away and slump to the ground. In the distance, he could see Remus and Dumbledore standing quietly, watching with curiosity but remaining respectful. Behind them, the Weasley's and the rest of the household peered into the backyard, bewildered and shocked faces all too stunned and confused to speak.

"You – you aren't a failure," Harry choked out as he took a step towards James.

James looked up to him. "How can you say that? After…"

"It's not your fault," Harry rambled. He was looking straight at his father, someone who he'd dreamt about for as long as he remembered and he wasn't about to let that slip away. Not when far too often dreams become bitter disappointments. "You aren't a failure. It was him, it was Voldemort that caused all this, he's the one that ruined my life, our lives…but…he didn't ruin them…I'm still here…"

James blinked. "Merlin, Harry." James stood to face his son at eye level. "I'm just so…so sorry for everything. There's been times in the last few days that I wished I had really died…that it would be so much easier than going through this accepting…easier for everyone else than having to bring to the surface old wounds…but standing here looking at you, hearing your voice…it's the most amazing thing I could ask for."

Tears streamed down both men's cheeks. Harry sniffed, and forgetting that anyone else was around, he fiercely wiped his eyes.

"I grew up never really knowing what happened to you or to…Mum except for a lie. And I dreamt everyday about what it would be like to have you both. And then I found out that I was a wizard and I began finding out about you and who I was…and it's all been so overwhelming and finding out about the prophecy and learning that…that people hide things and don't tell you everything and lie and betray…"

"Harry," James took his son into his arms in one swift motion and held him tight. He held him close, he held him like he'd longed to for so many years, even though he hadn't been aware of the want. He held him for every wrong or misfortunate event he'd gone through. He held him for every scrape or bruise he might have had. He held him for every broken heart he'd felt in his life so far. He held him for every glorious moment that had occurred in his absence. He held him like a father would cuddle a child.

And Harry held a tight grip of his own. There were still so many unanswered questions running through his mind. There were still doubts of the future and there were still curious wonders to be explained. It was much to exhilarating of a moment to be thinking clearly enough to ask any of these and all Harry wanted was the one thing he had wanted the most in his life – a family and someone to love him.

And if Harry had ever been sure of anything in his life before, nothing compared to the content, secure, blazing assurance that this man with his arms around him was, indeed, the James Potter he'd had so many dreams about. This was his father and he was loved.

* * *

Back in the dreary kitchen of number 12, the Weasley's and other houseguests had been ushered back inside by Albus and Remus to give the Potter's space. Remus was on the verge of tears himself from happiness and relief. One could just not understand what it felt like to regain when you thought all was lost unless you've felt it.

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes had returned with one worry having been lifted. The two still needed plenty of time together; time to catch up, to adjust, to learn each other, but they would. Worry still filled Albus's mind with many other items, but this was the biggest relief of all. The Potter's reunited.

The rest of the household, however, was a bit more in shock and dismay than anything else. They all walked back into the house not understanding what they had just witnessed. They all wanted to know, wanted to ask…

"Please, everyone, sit down," Dumbledore instructed.

He waited as everyone found a seat quietly. Ron and Hermione sat nearest the window; arching their necks to get a glimpse of anything…just to see…to make sure that Harry was alright.

"I can not offer you much at this time; it is Harry's choice on how much he will choose to share with you all. I do ask, for consideration, that this news does not venture any further than us until the many questions have been answered."

"It's…is it really him?" Molly asked, holding a hand over her fluttering heart.

Looking at Remus with a slight smile first, Dumbledore nodded. "It is really him."

"How…?" Ron asked the big question.

"We're still working out just exactly how," Dumbledore shared. "In time, all answers will be revealed. All I ask of you now is to be respectful of what both Harry and James are going through. I don't imagine it to be easy to come back from being 'dead' and assuming your life after fifteen years."

"But…Harry's the only one that has ever survived the curse," Hermione's mind was racing for an explanation of how James Potter was standing outside with Harry.

"Yes, we must correct that statement, I presume," Dumbledore nodded. He winked at Remus.

"The _Potter's_ are the only to survive that curse," Remus replied.

"But…Lily…" Molly squinted to hold back her oncoming tears.

"Sadly," Dumbledore's smile faded.

"But Harry saw his dad come out of You-Know-Who's wand at the cemetery!" Ron refused to believe what was happening. It just…didn't make any sense.

"As I said, Ron, all answers will be revealed. In the meantime, I do think a lovely breakfast would be in order."

Molly nodded and began to clang pots and pans around again.

"Well, do sit down, then," Arthur nodded to Remus and Dumbledore. The two men took seats at the table among the unnatural silent clan. All the kids were sitting dumbstruck, unsure of how they should act or what they should say. The adults were just in plain shock, wanting answers that only James could supply and silently wishing that he wasn't the only one…

"It's just not natural," Molly said as she peered out the window. "A boy Harry's age needn't go through all that he has, and now this?"

"Molly, it's his _father_," Remus reminded her. "What'd you want to happen, for James to just go on letting Harry think he's dead and watch him from afar?"

"Well, if he hadn't been such an arrogant and conceited prat back then, none of this would be needing to happen. Oh, just look at them! Poor Harry-dear."

"Mu-um," Ginny sighed.

"Yes, Molly, why don't we give the two some privacy, hm?" Arthur began to usher his family out of the kitchen and away from the window. "I do say, though, I can't wait to ask James some questions, having spent the last few years as a muggle…"

Remus smiled as Fred and George both rolled their eyes.

"Harry's dad," Ron said, still in astonishment. "I can't believe it."

"None of us could," Remus said with a sigh.

The kids all grew quiet, not wanting to be disrespectful.

"Well, go on then," Molly suddenly looked at all the kids. "Upstairs, with you! Go! You've plenty to do, and stay away from the window!"

The kids filed up stairs and into the room that Ron and Harry shared whilst the adults remained quiet, all having separate thoughts on what this turn of events could mean, and would mean, for everyone.

* * *

The two clinging men finally separated, a bit awkwardly, unsure of the right words to say now. They both faced away, wiping their tears and regaining their composure.

James was the first to turn back. He stared at Harry who was looking off into the distance.

"I have so much that I want to ask you," James told him.

"I do too," Harry replied, turning towards James. "Like…what happened?"

James took a hard swallow. "That night?"

"I know there was a green light…" Harry started. "I know that Mum tried to save me…Voldemort got you first…" Harry hiccupped to subdue the tears.

James nodded. "Do you want to sit somewhere? It's not a simple story to tell…"

Harry looked around for where they could sit comfortably and talk. His heart skipped a beat as he thought for an instant what he was doing- looking for a place to sit and talk with _his father_. Unbelievable.

"Come on," James waved his hand and started to walk away from the house. "There's this spot, not too far, if it's still there. Sirius used to hide there to get away from his family before he left home."

"Sirius…" Harry muttered, having forgotten that his father and Sirius had been best friends. James would know so much about him, have so many memories. He'd have the same about Remus…and Peter.

"Do…you know, I mean…has anyone told you…" Harry wanted to know, _needed_ to know if James knew that Peter had betrayed him. Because aside from wanting to revenge Voldemort, Harry felt a deep desire to hurt Pettigrew.

James stopped and looked at Harry, searching his eyes for the question. "If you're asking if I know what happened to Sirius, yes. I know what happened fifteen years ago and I know what happened a few months ago."

"You know, then, that Sirius figured it out…"

James laughed; the first real laugh that Harry got to witness from him, "Sirius knew Peter was our secret keeper. There wasn't a thing about me that Sirius couldn't figure out. The only thing he never knew was where we were that night. But he guessed…I knew he would know if anything happened…and he did. He did, Harry. He knew and he came and did what a true brother, a true friend, would do and went after Peter in my name…in our name. Consequence aside, it was a battle he knew that he'd die to fight. I…I was blessed to have had a friend like that, Harry. I miss him. I've always missed him, without knowing." He stopped and took a deep breath. "Losing someone close to you is always hard, no matter your age or how you lose them, but Harry – it _wasn't_ your fault." James rested both his hands on Harry's shoulders. "Sirius never regretted a thing he did, it was a pact we lived by that he took seriously."

Harry nodded.

"Besides," James winked. "Sirius would curse you if he saw you looking this sad over him. Come on." He continued to lead the way through some trees.

Harry had no idea how James could know where they were going or even what direction they were headed in, but he seemed confident. Harry watched him as he followed; his gait, the way he walked, how he'd randomly run his hand through his hair subconsciously. It made Harry want to laugh; he had a father that he could make fun of.

"Here we are," James stopped at a big, old tree.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Where are we exactly?"

James shrugged. "I have no idea, but do you like to climb trees?"

"Um, sure," Harry looked up the tall tree.

"This would be so much easier if I had a wand," James grumbled. "Oh well, guess we'll do it the muggle fashion, then. Ready?"

"So, we're climbing this tree?" Harry questioned, just to be sure.

James nodded as he started to reach for a branch and begin to climb. "Yep. There's a tree house way up there, charmed and all so you can't see it from down here. He didn't build it or anything, found it by chance one day running from his family after a fight. He showed it to me and that's when we charmed it."

"So you used to come over here?" Harry asked, curious of his father's childhood.

The two started to climb the tree, and as they went further up, Harry could see the battered tree house.

"I came over a few times," James explained. "Snuck over actually. His parents didn't exactly approve of us being friends. Course, they didn't approve of Sirius much by that point, what with him being sorted into Gryffindor and all that. But there were a few summers that I found a way over; didn't want him suffering the entire holiday alone."

"He moved in with you eventually, right?" Harry asked as they climbed into the tree house. It had obviously seen much better days. The boards creaked as they clamored over and sat themselves down. A lot of boards were missing in the walls and there was a hole in the roof.

"Yeah, he ran away from home right after summer started and my mum and dad refused to think him homeless. We came back a few times, though, after that. You know, getting more of his belongings and of course, to annoy Regulus, his brother."

"He was a…"

"Deatheater? Yeah," James sighed. "We knew it before he was open about it. Not that any Deatheaters really walked around screaming that they were, but some you just knew. He joined while he was still at Hogwarts. Sirius and he never really got along. Sirius was the disappointment, the one who didn't abide by all his family's traditions so Regulus did everything to keep his parents approval. I don't think the Black's were really so much into the dark arts, aside from Narcissa and Bellatrix. They were prejudice and disliked the fact that Sirius wasn't. I think Regulus joined Voldemort because he agreed with a lot of those ideals. His cousins were a part of it and his parents would be proud – especially since Sirius openly condemned Voldemort and his followers. He died, though, at the hands of Voldemort-"

"Because he wanted out," Harry finished.

"Yeah, which wasn't that much of a surprise either," James shrugged. "Regulus was weaker than Sirius and jealous. He wasn't the killing type, more of the type that needed to fit in, to be accepted." James sighed and stared at his shoes. "Sort of like Peter."

Harry's face reddened with anger, "He was Ron's rat for so long, Scabbers. I had the map and was walking in the halls at night-"

"The map?" James looked up at Harry. "The Marauder's map?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah. The Weasley twins, Fred and George gave it to me in third year."

"Hot damn, I had no idea that thing was still around. I wonder how it got snitched from Filch…"

"Fred and George," Harry smiled. "All the professors say they haven't seen troublemakers like them since…you…"

James laughed. "And you? Do you put it to good use?"

Harry swallowed. "It's helped quite a few times."

"We were pretty proud of that map," James reminisced. "We were quite proud of a lot of things we did. The thought never occurred to me then, but after I found out that Pete was the traitor – we knew there was one before we figured out who – I've often thought back and wondered if we didn't include him enough. If maybe we didn't treat him as well as we should have."

"You _knew_ he was the traitor?" Harry looked aghast.

James took a deep breath. "Harry, most of the rumors you've heard about me are true. I'm not perfect. I'm nowhere close but I've always thought I was. I always thought I was the best at everything I did. I was cruel to Snape – but I swear to Merlin he deserved it – and I was conceited."

"But Pettigrew was one of your best mates…" Harry was confused.

"He was," James nodded. "I mean, he made a great lookout when we needed one. And when there was something we needed done but none of us wanted to do it, he'd do it. And he didn't have anything else, so he'd do anything to keep us as friends. He treated us like we were heroes or something. Man, I thought he looked up to me, he treated me like I was something fantastic and I don't think I ever truly appreciated him back like he wanted. He just wanted friends. He just wanted to be wanted. But he wasn't as quick as we were. He wasn't as bright or talented as we were. He wasn't charming and couldn't get out of something even if he really did have an excuse…but we kept him around. He made us feel good, made for entertaining company sometimes…"

"How'd you figure out…why'd you use him if you knew-?"

"Hold on, Harry," James stopped him. "This isn't an easy story to tell."

James leaned back against the rickety wall and took a deep breath with his eyes closed.

"The Deatheaters seemed be getting inside information somehow," James started. "They knew too much, and they knew too much about things that only the Order knew. We, the Order, we were separate from the Ministry. A lot of us just didn't trust the Ministry. You couldn't trust everyone, then, Harry. Your best friend could turn on you, you just didn't know. But in the Order, we knew, or so we thought.

"A lot of us had our suspicions, but no one dared speak them. Being accused of being a Deatheater when you weren't was horrible. Sirius was the first to think of one of us. He thought of Remus, which horrified me. Remus was too good-natured to turn dark. But Sirius pointed out how he seemed to distance himself from us at the time. And he knew a lot about the Dark Arts; it was one of his best subjects. Only…that hadn't mattered. Being a werewolf makes it hard to find a job, you know. And he was having problems then, refusing help from any of us.

"But I just couldn't believe it. Lily, though, your mum, she suggested Peter. Again, I didn't want to believe it. He was my friend as well and my friends would not betray me, or any of us, like that. But Lily was a rational thinker and she thought things out. So I started to watch him and it didn't take me long to realize that Lily was right.

"And once we were sure of it, and we were told of the prophecy…we knew what we had to do."

James cut himself off and looked out towards the tops of the trees. He couldn't look Harry in the eyes anymore. He couldn't bear the thought of telling Harry why his parents hadn't been around. He didn't want to tell Harry that they had set Voldemort up into picking Harry and then losing what he'd just gained that morning.

"W-what?" Harry asked nervously. "What did you do?"

James forced himself to look at his son. "We made Peter the secret keeper knowing he was the traitor. I knew that Peter would be so excited that he had the information that Voldemort wanted more than anything that there would be no way for him to keep the secret. I _knew_ he'd tell him. Voldemort wouldn't even have to coerce it out of him; he'd willingly give it up. And I knew that Voldemort would come after us. Lily was a muggleborn…I was a Potter…we had survived him three times and his Deatheaters numerous times. We were part of his elite enemy and he'd have us in his pocket. We expected him."

Harry's eyes were narrow. He was confused…angry almost. His parents _knew_? They…set up their own deaths? Harry's future…

"_Why_?" Harry hissed.

This was the part that James was nervous about. He closed his eyes and tried desperately to envision Lily by his side. She'd know what to say, how to say it. She'd know the right words to comfort Harry as he learned the truth. She'd understand it was harder than so many things to accept that your parents were human; that they weren't the hero's that you willed them to be.

"Harry, I need you to listen to this and try to understand it. I need you to know that your mum and I…we had the best intentions in everything that we did. We thought we were better than," – deep breath – "we were. You need to understand that fighting Voldemort had consumed us, and ending the dreadful existence that we, that all of us were living, was something that mattered to us as much as you mattered to us. As much as we mattered to each other. Please, Harry, please listen to me. I need for you to understand…to understand what happened and why…"

Harry nodded without saying a word. He sat quietly, emotionlessly; as he listened to James tell the story. He heard every word spoken and digested it carefully. He was mesmerized with the witching capabilities that his parents _did_ possess. He was impressed with their determination and drive. He admired their willingness to put themselves at risk in order to fight a cause. He felt the love that they held for one another and for him, even through the arrogance.

But he also became upset. For all the reasons he had wanted to give up before, now knowing that it was because of his _parents_ that he was in the position that he was in tore at his heart. Everything he had desperately wanted to believe in all his life was in his lap and he wasn't sure if it was what he wanted anymore.

They loved him, this he knew, he had always known, but had they loved him more than they desired to beat Voldemort? He was only a baby at the time, how were they to know that he'd be strong enough, brave enough, that he'd _want_ to defeat Voldemort?

"Harry?" James gulped. His heart was furiously beating and he was beginning to sweat. He was more nervous now than he had been in even seeing Harry again. It seemed as thought time stopped while he waited for a reaction from him.

"Why?" Harry glared at his father. "Why did you two have to be the heroes? Why did it have to be me? Didn't you stop and think that it might not work?"

"I…we…Harry, we thought we knew what we were doing. Merlin, we never intended on it backfiring…we never wanted to leave you…or to lose you…we…we just…"

"You put your family on the line and lost."

James closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. The words that no one had said to him since they had found out, but the words that James knew were true. The ones he was the most afraid of. _You put your family on the line and lost._ And lost…James had lost…James and Lily Potter had lost…and James was quickly losing more.

"Harry, we never gave it a second thought. We didn't need to because we knew we were making the right decision at the time." James lifted his head and sat up straighter. His voice got stronger with every word he said and he looked into Harry's eyes again. "We knew that whatever happened when Voldemort found us that in the end it was going to be the right thing. We knew you had it in you. Sure, you were just over a year, but you had the look of a champion in your eyes even then, Harry. We didn't have a doubt. You were destined to be something great."

Harry shook his head, "No, I wasn't. I was forced into being something great." He looked away for a moment. "What if I don't want to anymore?"

His question was met with silence. James wasn't sure what exactly he meant by that.

Harry looked back at him. "What if I don't want to be Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived any longer? What if I don't want to be the one that has to _kill_ Voldemort? What if I'm _not_ strong enough to do it? I can't even master occulmacy!"

James stared him down, right in the eyes. "Yes you can, Harry. You can and you will. Why…why _wouldn't_ you want to?"

Harry threw a stick out of the tree house in frustration. "Because I'm tired of fighting! Because I'm scared and I just don't want to do it anymore. Because all my life I just wanted to be _normal_. I just wanted a family with my parents and friends…I didn't want this. I didn't want to be the savior of the Wizarding world! I can't…I can't handle it."

James just stared at his son. He felt like this outburst was a long time coming and that Harry needed to get that out. He felt guilty, too. Immensely guilty.

"Do you know what you're fighting for?" James asked him quietly after a few moments had passed.

Harry shrugged. "I know the reasons."

"Do you understand them?"

Harry's face snapped towards James's. "Do you think I'm stupid? Yeah, I get it. And I hate him. I hate him for everything that he is, he's done, what he thinks. I hate him with a burning passion."

"Harry, he never heard the whole prophecy. He didn't know he was 'marking' you."

"But you knew."

James sighed. "I did." He looked deep into Harry's green eyes. "And you aren't as sorry that I did as you seem to think you are. I don't regret it, Harry, I can't. You _are_ strong enough to do this and you _want_ to do this. And you want to do it for the right reasons, not for the fame. And you have what it takes. You have more than anyone else."

"And what if I don't? How do you know?"

"Because you have me, Harry. You have me, now, right beside you. He's evil and he decided a long time ago to take out his issues on the rest of the world. He's a murderer; a cold hearted murderer without a conscious. He's hateful and prejudice and he's a brilliant wizard. He's taken from so many what he took from you, what he took from me, and for what reason? Because they didn't agree with him. Because they wouldn't follow him or they didn't meet his standards. And you know as well as I do that living in fear is no way to live. You know that he thinks he has the upper hand and that he's going to win. But you're smarter, Harry. You care and you have feelings and you understand love. You understand what he never did."

Harry barely blinked. He barely breathed as he sat listening to his father's lecture, his father's speech.

"Harry, it wasn't because I wanted to be the 'one' or to be the father of the 'one' that would defeat him. It wasn't because I wanted to prove something. I watched as the world I knew crumbled under him. I watched as people I knew, and people I didn't, lose loved ones because of him. I watched my _own_ loved ones die because of him. I watched the world turn into a ball of fear under one wizard's power. And I became enraged. I didn't need to be the 'one' but I needed to be a part of it. I needed to make a statement, to say something, do something. I needed to fight him and prove to him that he wouldn't win in the end; that all the misery he caused was worth something, that he'd get what was coming to him. And when your mum and I heard the prophecy and figured out Peter and looked into your eyes…there wasn't a doubt in our mind that our child was going to feel the same way.

"Harry, only you have the power to defeat him. And you don't have to do it alone."

The two men took to staring at one another again, neither sure of what to say next. So many emotions were running ramped through their veins, so many thoughts, so many questions. They had so much to talk about, so many things to catch up on, and so much anger and aggression held up inside that they _needed_ to take out on each other.

There was still doubt in the back of Harry's mind. Sure, he realized that his life could have been worse, but how much worse than what he'd suffered through? With or without all these people that cared about him, because they sure hadn't been around his first eleven years. Good things, such as this, just didn't happen to Harry.

His father was alive. His _father_ was standing before him, alive and healthy. How was he supposed to react? What was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to just run into his arms as though he'd always done that? Was he supposed to just go pack his bags and move in with him and have that normal life he'd longed for since he could remember?

This was the man that Harry had been defending since he knew how. This was the man that his aunt and uncle had despised. This was the man that Petunia no doubt hated and blamed for the loss of her own family. This was the man that had practically tortured his potions professor in school, the man who thought that he had owned the world – but didn't.

This was also Sirius's best friend. And Remus's. This was also the man that his mother had come to love, after years of dislike. This was a man who had defied Voldemort three times, and, well, defied him a fourth time as well, just no one knew. This was a man who gave his life to fighting against evil. This was a man, who was sitting directly in front of Harry, only a small space between them; that was crying because he was alive, and Harry was, too.

This was Harry's father. No one was perfect, least of all James Potter, but, Harry thought, he was as perfect as Harry could ask for. He didn't know the story yet, he didn't know what had happened, why things had to be the way they ended up, but here they were, right now.

Present time accounted for – the two had each other. They shared something; they shared a lot. They shared a deep hatred for an evil man. They shared a passion for doing the right thing. They both wanted it to be over and, inside, they both knew that they would do anything for that fight. They both had tempers, they both were lost and confused but continued to walk with their heads held up. They both missed that beautiful red head, but they both loved her with all their hearts.

"We can win, Harry," James told him.

Harry slowly nodded. He understood, suddenly, the determined fight that his parents had. The determination that he had always had - since his first year when he insisted on figuring out what was on the third floor. He had often wondered why he repeatedly found himself in harms way, why he was always getting in trouble and getting himself into sticky situations. When he found out about the prophecy, he thought that it was just a cruel fate that had been handed to him.

But now he knew. Now he knew that he was just a Potter. He was born with strength of mind, with a _will_, to be something and be someone. He would do right in the world; fix what he could, fight for what he knew was right. He would take advantage of every breath he took.

And he wasn't going to do it alone. He hadn't ever really been alone; he knew someone was with him everywhere he went. But it felt real nice to feel someone close to him.

"We _will_ win," Harry corrected his father.

James looked taken back for a second, not expecting Harry to be convinced so quickly. But he smiled. He grinned and he shook his head before grabbing Harry and giving him a hug.

James laughed as he let go of his son.

"It's going to be a beautiful day, Harry," James told him.

Harry nodded, a smile creeping up on his face as well. "Yeah, I think it is, Dad."

"Have you…have you been to Diagon Alley yet to get your school things?" James asked.

Harry shook his head. "Not yet…"

"Are you hungry? I'm starving. And you know what sounds delicious…"

"Um…Dad…does anyone else know that you…that you're alive?"

"Oh, yeah, that…" James scrunched his forehead. "Um, well…there is this great muggle place we could go to and get breakfast. I haven't been by my flat since I remembered…"

James stopped and thought about Tiffany. In all of his remembering and the uproar of finding Harry, he hadn't thought about her since the day she left Hogwarts. He wondered what she was doing, what she was thinking…if she missed him. Wow, what would she think now, of all this, when she found out about Harry?

"There's someone I want you to meet, too," James told Harry. "And we still have so much catching up to do, plans to make…and I need a wand."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "A wand?"

"Yeah…mine sort of got ruined that night…" James said quietly.

"Right, but the only way to get a wand," Harry started, wondering how they would pull this off.

"Ollivander's," James nodded. "Which him I'm not worried about. He is still alive, isn't he? It's just _getting_ there unseen that's the tricky part…"

Harry smiled. "The Invisibility Cloak!"

James jerked his head towards Harry with a shocking smile. "You have it? I mean, you have one?"

"I have yours. Dumbledore…gave it to me for Christmas my first year at Hogwarts," Harry explained.

James grinned. "That old coot. That's perfect, Harry. I could wear it and we can go to Diagon Alley."

"Are we still going to go to breakfast?" Harry asked meekly.

Laughing, James nodded. "Skipping food is something that I totally forbid you to do as your father, do you understand me?"

Harry laughed. "Right."

The two, fixated on their plans, climbed down the tree and made their way to the backyard again. Once there, they both nervously stopped and stared at the house.

"Now what?" Harry asked his father.

"Well, I don't need anyone's permission to go somewhere with my son, do I?" James asked.

"I don't need permission to go anywhere with my dad, do I?" Harry grinned.

"We should still tell them we're leaving, at least, don't you think? I'd hate to make Moony worry any more than he has too. He's already got too much gray hair," James suggested.

"Okay…" Harry thought of what everyone's reaction was going to be when they walked inside, announced they were leaving, and…left.

"Right, well…let's just do it then, you think?" James shrugged and started for the back door.

"What will we say?" Harry asked, catching up with him.

James gave Harry a wink as he opened the door. "That we're going out for some father/son time?"

Harry beamed a smile as they walked through the door and into the kitchen.

* * *

The kitchen was silent except for the arbitrary clinking of forks against plates and the chewing of food. No one spoke a word as they ate their breakfast, their minds all preoccupied with what could possibly be going on outside, with what could happen next…what it all meant.

All heads turned towards the doorway as the door creaked opened. A few blank stares and quite a few stunned expressions met the Potter duo upon entering.

"Morning, all," James nodded his head. Harry walked in and stood next to his father.

Dumbledore and Remus both formed a smile, both knowing that things were…okay. No, they were better than okay. Things that happened that were too good to be true were more than just okay; more than fine…they were wonderful.

The others, however, all just stared. It was unbelievable to sit there and look at Harry and James standing next to one another. They looked so much alike, yet…they weren't. Father and son…the Potter men.

Mouths dropped, forks fell, gasps were taken and hearts fluttered. Molly Weasley put one hand over her heart and another over her gaping mouth.

"So, um, since we had no plans, Dad and I are…we made some plans and we're heading out," Harry said, nervously. _Dad and I_ he repeated in his head. A smile crept up his face.

James nodded in agreement, "Yes, we just thought we'd tell you so you didn't worry. Albus, I'll be back at the castle later this evening, I suppose. Harry…"

Harry nodded. "I'll be back later."

"Right, so…see ya," James and Harry both waved and turned back to the door.

"You can't just roam about freely," Remus stopped them with a worried tone. "James, if you're seen by the wrong people or by anybody at this point-"

"Remus," James warned. "We're going."

"I'm afraid, James, that Remus does hold a point," Albus interjected. "To be quite honest, not only is it a genuinely wonderful thought that you are back with us, you are also an asset to the Order. If Voldemort found out that you are still alive, he'd be after you in an instant."

James laughed and looked at Harry who smiled back.

"Let him come after me, Albus. Because you're right, I am back. And I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

_**...huggles n cookies...**_

_**...missers... **_


	11. Actions and Reactions

**A/N – This chapter dedicated to KLLRS. Extra cookies to my special Kelly; love you, darling!**

**Chapter Eleven – Actions and Reactions**

_To every action there is always opposed an equal reaction._

_--Sir Isaac Newton_

The journey to the small pub for breakfast was a silent one. Both men had many thoughts running through their minds; both were still understanding and accepting each other. All through the ride in the cab, both would sneak looks at one another, just to make sure. Neither wanted this to be a dream, and if it was, they hoped not to wake any time soon.

James paid the driver, smiled at his son and took a deep breath. He looked up and down the street before pointing to the pub. As Harry followed him in, James had a sudden panic attack. How was he to combine the Wizarding world with his everyday muggle world? Was he supposed to give up one or the other? What would Harry want? Would he be okay with living in the city? Would he even _want_ to live with him? What was he supposed to tell his friends? What had Tiffany already said?

"Evan! Haven't seen ye in a while!" An older, plump woman behind the counter greeted. "We were beginning to…wonder…if…"

James glanced back at a very nervous looking Harry. He chuckled to himself, realizing Harry must have a bit of shyness Lily had. Of course, when James turned around and saw that the entire place had grown quiet and all eyes were now locked on him and his son, James felt a little nervous as well.

"Morning, everyone," James nodded his head. He cleared his throat and stood a bit taller, just to show he was proud. "Everyone, this is…this is Harry, my son."

If Harry hadn't been nervous before, once hearing James introduce him, his face grew pink and he suddenly felt like hiding underneath a nearby table. All eyes were boring holes in him. He didn't know who any of these people were; moreover, they didn't really even know who his father was.

"And…my name isn't really Evan," James continued. "It's James. James Potter."

The silence pressed on another moment before the lady behind the counter's face of shock turned into a grin. She slapped her towel down on the counter.

"Well, save the Queen! Look at you! Look at the both of ye's. You two look just alike!" She came bounding over to them, engulfing James in a hug. She stood back and looked at Harry a moment before pulling him into her arms as well. "Harry, aye? Harry Potter, son of _James Potter_."

"Harry, this is Edna." James introduced her as she let Harry go. Harry smiled as he regained his composure from the hug. His eyes began to dart around the diner, examining every face that was concerned with his father's proclamation

"James Potter," Edna put a hand to her hip and sighed. "And that's where you been, then? Out finding your life again? Good for ye', James, good for ye'. You 'n Harry come sit at the counter and tell Jack and me everything."

James glanced at Harry who nodded an uncomfortable okay before the two followed Edna to the counter. Harry felt uneasy, as did James who tried to cover the uncomfortable feeling. He nodded at familiar patrons while waiting for Edna to take their order.

"And what ye have this morning, _James_?" Edna winked at Harry as she asked his father the question.

James glanced at the menu before clearing his throat and replying. "Um, I think I'll have the kippers, bacon, and fried egg."

"Tea?"

"That'll be fine," James nodded and then looked at Harry. "Order whatever you like."

Harry licked his lips nervously. "I'll take…the same, but orange juice."

Edna smiled, "Like father, like son." She turned to the kitchen and yelled the order back. James and Harry both watched as she got their drinks and filled cups of coffee and tea. People in the diner still gawked, but tried to be inconspicuous about it.

James cleared his throat again as he played with the napkin in front of him. He ran a hand through his hair habitually.

"Heh, it's hard to believe that just three hours ago, we hadn't…met again yet," James attempted to start conversation. The realization of his statement, however, hit home.

Harry nodded as he fingered his glass on the counter, "Yeah. Three hours ago…"

"So how long have you been staying at Grimmauld?" James asked, his gaze still on the napkin.

"Only a few days," Harry replied. "Some of the Order members came and escorted me from the Dursley's."

James shook his head. "I have half a mind to go see them, you know. I could tell Vernon a few things, hell, I could tell Petunia a few things too. And they had a son, didn't they?"

It was odd to Harry, hearing his _father_ talk about Harry's family. Well, they _were_, technically, James's family too, even if only by marriage. This was the man his aunt and uncle hated. There was history between the Dursley's and James.

"They told me you…and Mum…died in a car accident. They told me that's how I had gotten my scar," Harry said. "I didn't know I was a wizard until I read my Hogwarts letter. And that had to be hand delivered by Hagrid."

Harry saw his father tense up. The muscles in his neck and face grew rigid. "I heard that, Harry, and I'm sorry. As safe as not knowing made you, you shouldn't have ever been lied to."

Harry shrugged. "Can't change anything now."

There was silence as they both sat there staring at their drinks. Edna brought their food and leaned on the counter near them.

"So Evan, I mean _James_, who were you? What'd you do in your old life? Did ye' figure out what happened to ye' then?"

James had picked up his fork and began digging into the eggs when Edna asked. He froze, unsure of how to reply. He couldn't exactly tell everyone he was a _wizard_. He couldn't exactly explain that he'd been fighting against a dark wizard when he'd 'died'. He couldn't really explain…anything. All he could say was his real name and that he had a son.

James took a deep breath and swallowed. "Well, um…I was…I was researching at the time before the…accident."

Edna raised an eyebrow, "Research? What kind of research?"

"Um, top secret sort of stuff, you understand," James nodded, hoping to evade any more questions.

"And ye know what happened, now? To make ye lose you're memory?"

James glanced at Harry who looked as uncomfortable as James felt. "There…there was a sort of explosion in our home…" As his mind turned with excuses, his heart began to beat faster and he realized it wasn't that coming up with reasons was hard, it was dealing with what actually _did_ happen that he was having trouble with.

Edna's face fell and she offered a look of sympathy. "Ye were married, then?"

James's face grew pale and he nodded. His appetite had suddenly vanished and he wished to be anywhere but at the diner.

"Edna, leave the man alone!" Jack yelled from the kitchen. "He came in to eat, not be interviewed."

Edna rolled her eyes. "Just wantin' to know who our James is, that's all. Eat up, then, James, Harry. Breakfast is on the house."

James managed a meek smile. "Thank you."

Edna went back to taking care of the needs of her customers, leaving James and Harry alone again. James noticed Harry seemed to be picking at his food, as well.

"I hadn't really thought…thought of what I'd tell people," James sighed. "What do you say we get out of here? I'd like to…I'd like to go back to my flat."

Harry put his fork down and nodded. "Yeah."

James threw down some money to at least tip Edna if not cover the bill and the two strolled out of the diner, avoiding eye contact with everyone. They began walking down the street in silence as cars flew by them and strangers brushed past.

"Have you always lived in the city?" Harry asked.

"Since…then? Yeah," James nodded. "Tiffany's all I've had so I never felt comfortable leaving her."

"Tiffany?" Harry's eyes widened, wondering who this female was. Had his father, with no memory of his mother, moved on? Was he married again? Did he have kids? Harry realized he still knew virtually nothing about the man walking next to him.

"Tiffany. She's my best friend. Well, one of them," James corrected himself thinking of Remus, of Sirius…of Lily. "She found me, that night, and pulled me from the rubble of the…of our house. I suppose she didn't know you were there. I was out cold and she took me to the hospital. When I awoke with no memory, she took me under her wing. She lives across the hall from me, actually."

Harry didn't respond. Initially he was happy his father had found someone to help him along all these years. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to wake up with no memory of your life. But as it sunk in, Harry grew to dislike this woman he hadn't met yet. If she hadn't pulled James from the house, perhaps Harry's life would have been different. Perhaps he would have had his father all this time.

"She doesn't have anyone else," James continued after noticing Harry's silence. "We grew to depend on each other. She helped me search for my life…she's never given up hope for me. She was with me the day Rosmerta saw me. She was there to hear the story. Albus even let her come to Hogwarts when they first took me back there."

"Are you…" Harry couldn't finish the question. It wasn't fair of him to want his father to be alone, but he couldn't accept anything else.

"With her? No," James answered immediately. "I've…I've tried to date, but it's always been like…I couldn't remember your Mum, Harry. I couldn't remember anything, but I knew there had been someone. I just could never…without knowing…"

This relieved Harry a bit; at least he knew he was an only child. It wouldn't have been fair if there were others that did have James there growing up, not when James and Lily had been ripped away from Harry.

"And…you? Is there someone special?" James asked his son.

Harry slightly blushed, thinking of Cho Chang. She wasn't anyone special. She wasn't _anyone_ to him, really. He shrugged as they continued walking.

"No."

"Not that girl back there?" James tried for a smile.

"Hermione?" Harry looked almost bewildered at the question. He laughed, "No, she's just a friend."

James nodded. "Plenty of…time." Normally, the statement would make sense. Normally, it would be considered a statement said to reassure, to remind that no hurry in life was needed. But when you lose something as precious as years in your life, time becomes something that means a lot. It means that you never know how much time you have.

The silence returned. The previous night when his foremost goal was to find Harry and get him back, James hadn't considered the advice of his friends. He hadn't really taken in account how awkward it might be to…get to know his own son. He hadn't thought out the questions or the emotions that would come along with it. In a dreamy state, he had pictured everything perfect. Everything would just fall into place and it wouldn't be this hard.

But now he realized that wasn't the case. As quickly as Harry had accepted him, that didn't mean their relationship would come with ease. They had lost so much time.

And what was he thinking taking Harry out into his Muggle life only hours after finding him? James had barely accepted everything himself, he had only begun to remember everything, to understand. James walking up to Harry in the yard must have caused shock enough, but to pull him to a world he didn't know?

And James's thoughts were right; Harry was feeling as uncomfortable and stuck in shock as James was. He had gone to bed just like every other night for as long as he could remember - parentless and surviving. Less than twelve hours later, he was eating breakfast with his father?

What did this mean? Was he going to come live with James at his flat in London during holidays? Would they become that family that Harry had always longed for? Would they get along? What if they didn't like each other? What if they didn't agree on things?

"Well, here we are," James stopped in front of a building and looked up. He could see his deck, the table and chairs as he had left them only days before. "Shall we go up?"

Harry nodded, a nervous knot forming in the pit of this stomach. He wasn't sure how it was possible that he could be elated, confused, scared and uncomfortable at the same time, but he was. And he was about to see how his father had been spending the last fifteen years of his life.

* * *

James unlocked the door, turned the knob and stopped. He closed his eyes for a short moment before opening the door. He looked in and saw the mess that he had left; the broken glass chess game on the floor, his stag collection the book had knocked over…

He walked in and allowed Harry to follow before shutting the door. He took a deep breath before walking to the kitchen to get a broom, a broom to sweep, that is.

"I'm sorry it's a bit of a mess," James told Harry. "I um…I suppose I've a bit of a temper and I lost it before going to…Hogwarts."

Harry's eyes were wide as he looked around the small flat. For a man who had no recollection of who he was, Harry felt a strong presence of what he knew had to be his father. The interests, the style – the way the room smelled gave a slight comfort to Harry's struggling stomach.

James began to clean the messes as Harry circled the room, touching different things. He saw what was left of the stag collection. The fantasy paintings hanging on the walls made Harry smile. He remembered what it was like to know the Muggle version of the Wizarding world – the bright colors, the dragons and the magic.

Harry saw James's video collection, so many science fiction and fantasy movies. He moved on, dragging his hand on the deep red couch – Gryffindor red. A quilt with the solar system and moon phases was folded across the back.

Books upon books lined the shelves around the living room. Harry, again, noticed many fantasy novels, books on astronomy, ghosts, witchcraft, memory and memory loss. He smiled when he saw the football magazines – a popular muggle sport not too different from Quidditch.

Harry gasped when he saw the large portrait of a black dog on the wall near the sliding glass door. The dog in the painting looked similar to Sirius in his Animagus form.

"A bit warm in here, don't you think?" James asked as he slid the door to the deck open. A warm breeze flew in the flat attracting Harry's senses to the deck.

Harry walked to the door and peered out. The view was nice; the city in all it's glory beyond the small park below the apartment building. Harry could see the green grass and flower patches from where he was standing. He noticed a vase on the kitchen table near the door – it was filled with lilies.

James cleared his throat. "Tiffany must have put fresh flowers in here while I've been gone."

"Everything in here seems so…you," Harry commented, glancing around again as James threw the broken pieces in the trash.

James stopped and looked around. He let his gaze follow Harry's as Harry eyed the painting of the dog.

"I suppose my subconscious always knew who I was," James replied. "Now that you say that, it's strange the interests I've had all these years for no explanation."

While Harry continued to look around, James watched. He wondered if Harry could see himself here, if he could see himself fitting into James's life. Would he be so quick to adapt to the idea of living with him? Would he like living in London?

James leaned against the wall as he thought more. James wondered what kind of father he would be to Harry now. What kind of father would he have _been_? He wanted to know Harry's friends. He wanted to know what Harry's best subject in school was, how well he did in classes. Where did he spend his Christmas Holidays?

James remembered his own Christmas Holidays, the last one he had spent with Lily. And Harry; Harry had only been a baby then. Lily went all out with decorating that year, the tree literally danced. She had charmed the window on either side of the tree to show it snowing through the holiday.

He looked at the sliding glass door. Last Christmas, that was where he had put up the small tree for the holidays. It hadn't been much, slightly trimmed and he never bothered putting any presents under it. But now - now he was remembering all the charms he could use.

Could he do that? If he stayed here and remained a part of this life as well, how could he use magic in his own home? What if someone came over and noticed dancing ornaments?

What kind of job would he hold? Would he stay working at the bar or quit? Would he work somewhere in the Wizarding world? Could he go back to becoming an Auror or would they accept him after all this time away? And if he did work in the Wizarding World, how would he explain that to his Muggle friends? How would he explain his job?

"Do you like to play chess?" Harry asked, pulling James from his daydream.

"Oh, yeah, somewhat. I enjoy it from time to time, but it's not my favorite pastime," James explained. "You? Do you play a lot of Wizard's Chess?"

"I'm not very good," Harry shrugged. "Ron's better."

James heard a rattling noise from the hall. It sounded like keys jingling and he realized it must be Tiffany.

"Would you like to meet Tiffany, Harry? I would…I would like to introduce you two," James's voice grew quiet.

Harry swallowed. Yes, he wanted to meet this woman. She was an important person in his father's life. As far as Harry could tell, she had been James's life all this time. But…he wasn't nearly as excited or anticipating it as James was. Harry still felt the blame should lie on her for taking James away from him.

"Sure," Harry eventually nodded.

James smiled and headed for the door with Harry following. He couldn't wait for Tiffany to meet Harry.

* * *

James knocked. Harry stood back. James rocked back and forth on his feet. The longer he waited for her to answer the door, the more hatred that grew in Harry's mind for her. James bit his cheek to hold back the excited smile. Harry concentrated on his breathing to hold his feelings in for his father.

Tiffany opened the door.

If silence could be loud and deafening, it certainly was as the three stood and stared at one another. Tiffany's porcelain complexion paled from shock at seeing her morning visitors. She stood in her doorway, hand gripping the doorknob, staring. James suddenly felt nervous now that he saw her and couldn't quite find any words worth saying. Harry stood looking intently at the pale woman.

"Morning, Tiffany," James did his best to conjure a normal sounding voice. He forced a smile, hoping for one in return.

"Ev- James," Tiffany simply replied. She turned her head towards Harry, studying him. Her look was returned.

"Tiffany, this is my son, Harry. I wanted you to meet him."

She nodded at Harry before backing from the doorway. "Well, don't stand in the hallway all morning, come in."

James winked at Harry and followed his friend into her flat. Harry inwardly sighed, wondering how this meeting was going to go. He wasn't interested in meeting her, in getting to know her. He was still coming to terms with her being the one to have 'saved' James in the first place. Hell, he was still coming to terms with his father being alive at all. However, he still felt that if it hadn't been for _her_, he wouldn't be going through any of this now.

"We stopped at the diner for breakfast before we came here," James tried for idle conversation as the three walked to sitting room, taking seats, all far from one another.

"Oh?" Tiffany forced interest. Inside, she wanted to know everything. Outside, she was still scared as hell at what it all meant. _Wizards?_

James sighed. "Tiff, stop with the attitude. I was just telling Harry how important you are to me and it's important for me that you two know each other."

Tiffany anchored her head in her palm, her elbow resting on the arm of the chair. She smiled at Harry, "I'm sorry, I am being rude. This is just all…such a surprise."

Harry nodded but said nothing.

"They told you, didn't they? About Harry?"

"Yes, they told me you had a son and they told me about some dark wizard? I don't know, Evan. It's just all so much to take, you know? _God_, I'm sorry, _James_. James. You know, I've always been supportive of finding your past, I always wanted you to, seeing how much pain you were in not knowing…" Tiffany sat up straighter, her eyes averted towards the floor. "But this is a lot to take in. Wizards are a mere conceptualization from imaginative storytellers! Dragons don't really exist and neither does magic. It's _fantasy_. It's been my escape for years, to fall into tales of magical passion and heroic efforts. It was _our_ escape. And I wouldn't believe a bit of this if…if I…if I hadn't seen Hogwarts with my own eyes. And that terrifies me, James. It absolutely terrifies me to know that there is another world right in front of my eyes. And you _belong_ there. You had a _wife_ and you have a son. You were someone important, rich, noble…you were a part of a Great War that rivals the pain and importance of _Muggles_ own World War two."

James just looked at his friend, wanting to assure her that she wasn't alone in her confusion. If anything, he was even _more_ confused than she was.

Harry cleared his throat. "I grew up as a Muggle. I didn't know anything about the Wizarding World until I my eleventh birthday. I grew up with an aunt and uncle and a cousin who _hated_ me, I slept in a broom closet until after I returned from my first year at Hogwarts. You have no idea what it was like to suddenly be thrown into a world that you know nothing about being herald a hero. Other muggle born, first year wizards knew more about the world than I did and I faced Voldemort the end of my first year."

He glanced at his father who looked to have tears in his eyes as Harry told his version of accepting the world and his fate - his life tale. Tiffany was intently watching Harry, hanging on every word he spoke.

Harry continued. "The past five years have been more to me than the normal teen years. Not only did I have to adjust to a brand new lifestyle, a lifestyle that I fit into, I had to accept my role in the 'great war'. I had to accept that I was the chosen one to fight Voldemort. I had to do this without my parents. And then I found my godfather. And then I found out more about my family. And then I _lost_ my godfather. And now I've found out that my _father_ has been alive _all these years_. That's a lot to take in, you know!"

Harry hadn't realized his voice kept rising, the more he spoke. He hadn't realized that he'd end up on his feet, yelling out his last statement towards a woman he didn't know. He didn't realize that he was losing his temper until he'd already lost it.

"Harry?" James stood up and looked at his son.

Tiffany couldn't stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. She sniffled as she wiped her face with the back of her hand.

"I'm…sorry," Harry apologized. He sat back down on the couch, his eyes darting everywhere from embarrassment. "I just…I mean…"

"If I hadn't been out walking that night, Harry, you wouldn't have lost him," Tiffany suddenly voiced through her tears. "I didn't know there was a baby in the rubble, you weren't crying. I only saw your father; I only heard his low moans." She looked at James. "That's why I had to leave Hogwarts the other day, James. Erica told me everything about you that she could; she told me what happened that night, why your house had fallen apart. I felt guilty…I…" Her voice fell quieter as the sobs took over. "I took you away from your life."

Harry's eyes filled with bafflement. She had been thinking the same thing Harry had? She felt _guilty_? The hatred Harry had felt evaporated from his body as he watched this woman shed tears over what she thought had been rescuing someone.

James stood still, standing between Tiffany and Harry, speechless. He hadn't thought of the situation that way; he hadn't put any blame on anyone other than himself. He blinked a few times, watching Tiffany's head fall into her lap as she cried. He slowly turned toward Harry who looked guilt-stricken at starting the scene.

James Brian Potter was a wizard who had never had a doubt in his life. He was proud, arrogant and stubborn. His head was always held high and he never left room for self-pity, speechlessness, or failure. Whether he lived as a wizard or a muggle, these attributes never left his personality. Even in his most depressed moments, deep inside he ridiculed his doubt, telling himself that one day he'd overcome his obstacles.

But for the first time in his life, James Potter slid into the chair filled with doubt and regret. He had spent his first seventeen years trying to stand out and impress others. He'd spent the next few years proving he was a force to reckon with and he'd spent the last fifteen years concentrating on himself.

The only time he felt deserving of anything he'd desired was when Lily was by his side. She had a way of turning his pride into something more humble. She had a way of calming him down, of making him let go. He would have done anything for her, but in the end, he couldn't save her. All of his pride had lost him his life.

Yet, sitting before him were two people who cared about him deeper than he could imagine. The product of the love he and Lily shared yearned for that unconditional love that Lily taught James to have. He had been alone for much too long of his life and wanted to cling to anything that was rightfully his.

And Tiffany? James, as Evan, had relit her dying fire. He had given her reason to keep going, to keep living. In his efforts to find his life and reacquire his dreams, he had given birth to her own chase.

James traced her red locks in his mind, remembering how they curled around her face. She danced in delight whenever James would be momentarily knocked off his high horse, his comebacks amusing her to no end. She had fallen in love with him, proving to him that there was good and worth inside of him. She thought he taught her about life, but James was only beginning to understand what she had taught him.

His heart suddenly ached as he looked at Harry. He was staring at the carpet so intently James thought his green eyes would burn a hole. Lily had that look. When she felt torn, she'd mentally berate herself, not realizing she was spacing out to the rest of the world.

"Well," James spoke. "If you want to get technical about it, it was really all my fault. I'm the one that insisted in fighting against Voldemort so openly and aggressively from the beginning. I was the one that insisted on trying to outsmart Voldemort and it was my decision in using Peter as our Secret Keeper. I was the one who persistently chased after Lily and I was the one who…never stopped to think of the ramifications of my actions. I wasn't as prepared as I ought to have been that night because I was the one who insisted we needn't hurry on the spells."

Harry and Tiffany both gawked at James.

"You were just being…you," Harry told him.

James rolled his eyes. "And where has that gotten me, Harry?"

"I'll tell you what it's gotten you, _James_," Tiffany interjected. "It's gotten you here. It's gotten you experiences and memories worth remembering. It's gotten you unpleasant experiences that needed to happen to take you to the next step. It's gotten you a handsome son and a friend who is in awe of you not because you're a wizard but because of how strong and resilient you are. You experienced a great love that so many only dream of. You experienced friendships, hardships, achievements – you've _lived_. Sure, you've lost so much, but you're getting a _second chance_, James."

James blinked.

"You came back," Harry added quietly. "You're…alive."

Tiffany nodded. "And frankly, James Potter, I think you need to get off your sorry excuse of an ass and do something constructive. You sitting here feeling sorry for yourself isn't getting to know Harry, it isn't recovering everything that's rightfully yours, and it sure as hell isn't helping Harry defeat this dark wizard. In fact, you're only wasting time dwelling on things you can't change. Would Lily let you sit here, moping?"

James hazel eyes flickered in the light. He looked up at Tiffany with question and amazement.

"Lily would have jinxed me by now," James admitted.

Harry stifled a laugh. He understood now, the James Potter that the world saw. He was self-centered and he had the ability to impress and take you down. But he also saw a softer side that was, obviously, what his mother had fallen for; it was filled with compassion, modesty and a little bit of doubt. His father was quite simply, human.

Tiffany smiled, "Lily must have been a very admirable women; she put up with you. You'll have to tell me all about her sometime, James. And Harry," she turned towards him. "I'd like the chance to get to know you, if you'd be willing…"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, I'd like that…"

Tiffany smiled. "But not today. Today you two should be together."

James and Harry exchanged looks. James nodded. "Are you still up for Diagon Alley?"

Harry thought for a moment. Only yesterday, he thought his life couldn't become any more complicated than it already was. He was an average teenage wizard dealing with the fate of the world and a death without a supportive family other than friends.

But he suddenly considered that his life would doubtfully ever _not_ be complicated or chaotic. Calm and simple probably weren't in his father's vocabulary. He was more moody and temperamental than Harry!

And Harry desperately didn't want to go back to yesterday. His father was going to end up a stranger old man than Mad-Eye Moody, but Harry would rather walk into the future with a blindfold on than facing it without James. He couldn't be sure, maybe it was just the unconditional love a child felt for their parents, but Harry was thinking he liked his father. He liked his father a lot.

"Yeah, it'll be…"

"An adventure," James and Harry finished at the same time.

Tiffany smiled at them. "Call me for tea, soon, babe."

"I'll _owl_ you for tea," James winked at her.

* * *

"Ah, this brings back memories," James laughed as he slid under the Invisibility Cloak. James and Harry were hiding behind a dumpster in a dark alley outside the Leaky Cauldron. "I do hope that you've used this for fun, Harry."

Harry smiled. "Remind me to tell you some of my stories."

He couldn't see his father but he could feel the smile radiating from beneath the cloak.

"Ready to go?" James asked Harry.

"Ready."

"Is anyone going to look at you strangely for walking around Diagon Alley alone? I'm under the impression that in the Wizarding World you're rarely alone. Although, I'm sure the Order is secretly tailing us right now," James stuck his head out from under the cloak.

Harry couldn't help but grin. "I think the only reason anyone might look at me strangely right now is because I'm either talking to no one or to a floating head."

James laughed. "Which isn't as strange as you might think, Harry. Come on, let's go. I can't wait to see everything."

James recovered his head and the two walked to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry felt a few pairs of eyes on him as he led his father to the back.

"Harry Potter?" Tom, the innkeeper recognized Harry from behind the bar.

"Um, hello," Harry stopped, sensing James right behind him.

"Here for you school supplies already?"

"Something like that," Harry nodded. "I should really get going, nice to see you."

Harry rushed out the back to the brick wall. He heard his father chuckling.

"Tom," James said through his laugh. Harry could imagine him shaking his head. "He's quite a character. Guess you'd have to be, working in a place like this. Well, go on, Harry, let's enter Diagon Alley."

Surprisingly, Harry was having an enjoyable time walking around with his hidden father. He ignored all the stares and the strange looks, except for the ones James pointed out and made fun of. And he stopped worrying about people's reactions when he appeared to be talking to himself.

They walked up and down the streets, looking in every window and going into a few of the more interesting shops. They spent quite a bit of time in Quality Quidditch Supplies. James was in awe of the latest models of brooms and Harry had a hard time making sure James wasn't seen as he insisted on touching everything in the store.

Harry felt at ease with James. He felt safe and cared for and even forgot his troubles while they walked around, conversing as they looked at everything. Harry felt almost as if he was spending time with a friend.

"Harry!"

Harry stopped and turned around when he heard his name. The voice was familiar and soon enough Remus emerged through the crowed, looking both worried and relieved.

"Harry, I've been looking for you two," Remus caught up with them, glancing to the side of Harry where he sensed James standing. "We need to get back to the house. Immediately."

"Why? What's wrong?" James asked beneath the cloak. He could tell something was bothering Remus.

"There's been an attack," Remus said under his breath so only they could hear him. "Albus has called an emergency meeting and demands for you two to return now."

Harry's face grew pale at this news. He was still getting over the shock of everything that had happened since the Tri-Wizard Tournament and wasn't quite sure how to deal with an all out war yet.

Harry felt James's hand on his back ushering him forward, "Let's go."

Remus led them to an empty alley and pulled out an empty bag of Pepper Imps. He pulled out his wand and tapped the bag. "Portkey."

"And you just had to eat all the candy before hand," James eyed his old friend after removing the cloak from his head.

Remus smiled. "I'll be sure to get you some, Prongs. Everyone hang on."

The old familiar twisting feeling behind the navel attacked the three and they thrust forward in a sensation, landing with a thump in the backyard of Grimmauld Place just beneath the oak.

James couldn't help but laugh. "Better than a roller-coaster."

Remus climbed to his feet and offered a hand out to James while Harry stood. "Come on, Albus is waiting."

The three walked into the house, entering the kitchen where a few people were already gathered. The moment Molly Weasley saw Harry she enveloped him in an overbearing hug.

"Harry, dear!" She cradled him as she would her own child she hadn't seen in months. "We were worried about you!"

"We weren't worried, just concerned," Arthur corrected. "James, it's a pleasure to see you again."

James smiled and shook Arthur's hand, "Likewise, Arthur. And I'd like to thank you and Molly for being so kind to Harry all these years."

Molly released Harry from the hug and attempted to flatten his hair. "Hair as bad as yours, James. And it was our pleasure. Ron and the rest are upstairs, Harry, why don't you go join them?"

Harry was about to protest, wanting to stay for the meeting, feeling he had the _right_ to attend the meeting when Remus spoke up.

"Yes, go on Harry. They've been itching to talk to you all day."

Harry glanced at his father as he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. James nodded, "Go on, Harry, at least for now."

"Ah, James, Harry, you've returned," Albus Dumbledore smiled. "Harry, I would very much like for you to join your friends upstairs. And James, if I could have a word with you and Remus before the meeting starts?"

James winked at Harry, somehow understanding what Harry was feeling. The wink comforted Harry, making him feel James would definitely speak up for him during the meeting. Who knew? Maybe Harry would be called back down and asked to join.

As James and Remus followed Albus to another room, Harry sprinted up the stairs. He was excited to tell his friends all about his day - his day with his dad.

* * *

Albus shut the door behind them and offered a seat to both old marauders.

"James, I'll fancy you've had an enjoyable day?" Albus began, taking a seat himself.

James smiled. "It's been hard, but most enjoyable. I apologize for causing you worry this morning, Albus, but I'm sure you understand. I have no regrets, he's my son."

Albus nodded. "Yes, and I'm more than thrilled to see you two together."

"Isn't the meeting going to start soon?" James asked, eyebrows raised and wondering why this conversation couldn't wait. Now that he had his full memory back and something had _happened_, James felt an empowering feeling to get back to his old job: fighting against Voldemort.

"About the meeting, James," Albus glanced at Remus before continuing. "Shall I assume correctly that you would like to be present?"

James gave his old Headmaster a strange look, "Why wouldn't I?"

"It's been fifteen years, James," Remus reminded him.

"You don't have to remind me, Moony. I was once an integral part of this Order and I intend to be once again."

"Our concern is with a few things that have changed over the years as well as your magical ability," Albus explained.

"My magical ability?" James scoffed. "I have it. It's still there and as good as it always was. The only thing I'm lacking is a wand, and I'll get that soon enough."

"Prongs, you can't just go out and be seen," Remus repeated. "The meeting was called because of an attack and there's going to be plenty of shocked and bewildered faces just seeing you here. And these are people we can trust."

"Yeah, we said that last time." James muttered. "Look, I can take change. I've taken it well so far, haven't I? If I'm anything, I'm adaptable and I think I've proven that without a doubt. I'm a member of this Order and unless there's some clause about losing your memory and being kicked out, I _still am_. This is an opportune time for me to catch up with everything that's going on. I won't ask bothersome questions until after the meeting if I don't understand because I haven't…been here."

Remus sighed. "He's got a point, Albus. And James was one of the best."

"I'm still one of the best," James corrected.

Albus smiled. "Some things do not change. Very well, then. Let us keep focus on the reasoning behind this meeting."

The look he gave the men sitting across from him was a familiar look that James hadn't received since his days at Hogwarts. James snuck a look towards Remus and snickered.

It was really starting to feel good being back.

* * *

When the three emerged from the room, they found more Order members had arrived. In fact, only a few were still missing. Idle chat filled the room until Emmeline Vance recognized James and gasped.

"James Potter?" She paled as her mouth dropped open and the room grew silent.

James sighed and glanced at Remus. "Remind me again why I always liked to be the center of attention."

Albus walked to the head of the table and clapped his hands. Everyone turned to face him, some still glancing at James, and others still whispering to each other trying to figure out if it was really him.

"I daresay that your eyes are not deceiving you," Albus began. "James Potter stands before us, alive and well."

"_Potter?_" Dedalus Diggle stepped towards him.

Emmeline put her hand on Dedalus's shoulder for support. "I can't believe it."

"But how?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked.

James swallowed.

"He survived that night, so many years ago. A muggle pulled him from the wreckage not knowing that Harry was there as well. James was knocked out and in a coma for some time and woke with no memory of his past. He's been living a Muggle life all these years until he was spotted. He's recently recovered his memory," Remus explained.

"But…" Emmeline shook her head. "I just…James?"

"Em," James smiled at her. "It's been a long time."

She shook her head, "I shouldn't be so shocked, should I?"

"But how'd you do it, James? How'd you survive?" Dedalus asked him. "That means…that means that-"

"Two wizards have survived Voldemort," Remus finished the sentence.

"And both of them Potter's," Elphias Doge shook his head, stepping towards James. He reached out to shake his hand. "It's an honor to have you back, James."

James let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and shook Elphias's hand. "Thank you."

"Only a couple are missing and we'll start the meeting," Albus announced. "I expect this to be rather lengthy." His eyes twinkled as he said it, looking at James.

"Sorry, got here as fast as I could," Arabella Figg cantered into the kitchen. She stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted James.

"Bella, you remember James Potter, don't you?" Emmeline asked.

"J-james…" Arabella's mouth dropped open.

Remus laughed. "Leave it to James to surprise and stun everyone."

* * *

Conversations began flowing, many trying to talk to James, welcoming him back and asking him thousands of questions. Dedalus wanted to talk to him about Harry, about what had happened just over a year ago to his son. Those who had never met James introduced themselves. Many talked amongst themselves, discussing this news, the attack, and what James's being back could mean.

Remus, still standing next to James, stiffened when the last member of the Order finally arrived. Those who had gone to school with them, stopped talking as well, anticipating the meeting that was about to occur.

The room grew quiet as the newcomer walked through the crowed. James eyes narrowed as he came into view. The man with the flowing cloak and long, black hair stopped, his eyes narrowing as well.

"Severus, I'm sure that you remember James Potter," Albus stepped up. "The most wonderful thing has occurred; James actually survived that night as well as Harry."

The two stared at each other.

"Potter," Snape growled.

"Snape."

"And you're sure he's no impostor?" Severus asked Albus, his eyes never leaving James.

"Certain. In fact-" Albus started but was interrupted by James.

"Do you think someone could impostor me, Snape? What made you turn? I'll guess Voldemort didn't like your greasy hair either?" James spat.

Severus's eyes glowed with anger. He lifted his head a bit higher. "It is certainly without a doubt the one and only James Potter. I suppose you'll be prancing around like some hero much like you always did and how your _son_ does."

James made a move to lurch forward, but Remus grabbed him by the shoulders and held him back. "Don't you even _speak_ my son's name," James seethed. "You'll never be as good as him. You'll never be the hero he _is_."

"James," Remus warned, trying to pull him back.

James wriggled out of Remus's grasp and stepped up to Severus's face. He sneered at him and in a low growling voice, gave him a warning. "You leave what was between us between us or so help me, _Merlin,_ Voldemort will be cake compared to what I'd do to you."

Albus cleared his throat from the front of the room. "I do believe we should start this meeting."

James and Snape stared each other down one more time before Remus pulled James to the other side of the room to sit.

"Leave it, Prongs," Remus whispered as everyone took their seats. "It was a long time ago and things have changed."

"He's still a slimy git," James protested.

"We're adults, James," Remus sighed. "You have to learn to work together."

"I don't _have_ to do anything with him."

"As members of the Order, you do. Merlin, you're as bad as Sirius was…" Remus trailed off, thinking of their missing mate. It was still hard, and having James back now seemed to make it harder for Remus. Not only did he miss Sirius after only getting him back for a short period, he was saddened that James didn't get the chance.

The meeting began with an explanation on the attack, theories and ideas of what happened. Some members explained their inside information, what they knew from working at the Ministry and they began to develop predictions, reasons, and plans.

Soon, however, as plans and ideas started taking the floor, many members started asking about James. What role would he play? Was the Ministry aware of his existence yet? What sort of powers did he still posses? Was he still able to duel? Could he still formulate strategies as he did in the first war?

"I don't think using Potter is a superior idea at this point," Severus spoke up.

"And why is that?" Hestia Jones asked, her eyes narrowing at Snape. "If anyone here knows firsthand what it's like to deal with Voldemort, it's James."

"Are you forgetting my role in this?" Severus snapped at her, obviously irritated.

"Hold on, Snape," James jumped in. "I think I do have a say in this."

"We all have a say in this, Potter, not just you."

"I think we could use James to our advantage," Tonks spoke up. "Obviously, Harry will be more receptive to learning and training with his father than any of us, and James is quite good."

"I daresay that's an understatement," Emmeline smiled.

"The second that Voldemort and any Deatheaters know James is alive, things are going to change," Dedalus commented. "It'll change Voldemort's strategy."

"It'll also blow him away that James Potter is even alive," Remus mentioned, proudly.

"It could also put many in danger," Mad-Eye suggested. "James will be a high priority on his list again, just like Harry is."

"Look, if your worried about Harry or I being able to handle ourselves-"

"So confident of your abilities, aren't you Potter? And your son's?" Snape hissed.

"I quite am, actually," James threw back.

"All the same, I think we need to carefully plan our next steps," Elphias suggested. "James could turn out to be a big key to the war and we don't want to make any mistakes."

"I agree," Albus nodded. "I believe that James should remain in hiding until further decisions can be made strategically."

James looked at Albus wide eyed and defiantly. "In hiding?"

"Perhaps you'll be more useful than Black was during his hiding," Snape muttered.

Those who heard his comment froze. Both James and Remus glared at Severus. James rose from his seat, not once, straying his gaze from Severus.

"Snape, there's something I think you need to understand," James seethed. "This isn't about you or about me or why we hate each other. It's about taking out Voldemort and if you weren't aware, the prophecy and Voldemort has chosen my son as the one who will do this. I'm good, and you know it. And you better believe your slimy ass I'll have something to do with this."

"I think, before we stray from the purpose of our meeting-" Dumbledore interjected with no use.

Snape rose from his own seat. "And I'll have you know, Potter, that I've been working diligently for years while you've been gallivanting around in the Muggle world-"

"Are you insane?" James exploded. "You don't know a damn _thing_ about what happened to me! Don't stand in front of me and pretend your shit is worth gold!"

"James, Severus, I do believe-"

"And you think you're worth more than gold?" Severus cried. "You always did. You're nothing more than _lucky_, Potter. And that's saying something. As far as your _son-_"

James jumped in front of Severus. "I told you not to speak of Harry."

"And you think I'm _afraid_ of you?"

"I can speak for myself."

The voice of the younger Potter brought everyone out of their mesmerized lull. All eyes turned and faced Harry, standing in the doorway. James's eyes softened once he saw the determined look in his son's face. Harry was right, he could speak for himself, and as far as James was concerned, it was far time he began to do so.

"Harry, you aren't supposed to be here, dear. This is a private-"

"Let him speak, Molly," James backed off Severus and gave the floor to Harry. "He has every right to voice his opinion, I believe."

Severus started to mutter something under his breath but the looks shot towards him shut his mouth. He was fighting a losing battle, apparently. Even Dumbledore waited for Harry to speak.

"I think that I have every right to attend these meetings," Harry said in a small voice.

James nodded his head towards Harry to show his support, "Go on, Harry."

Harry took a step further into the room and stood taller. His eyes scanned the members of the Order, many of whom he either knew or at least recognized. He had their full attention, many looked very curious to hear what he had to say.

"I think," Harry continued, his voice becoming stronger with every word. "I think that my Dad has every right to join the fight. He survived Voldemort using magic most of you probably don't understand. I want my dad to teach me and prepare me. And I want to know what's going on. I want to be informed and not kept in the dark anymore. If I'm going to be the one to take him out, then I should know things."

James smiled proudly. He saw Remus nod his head and smile approvingly out of the corner of his eye as well. Many other Order members seemed to nod as they glanced at one another, wondering their opinions on the matter. Severus remained standing, stiffly, where he had been.

Albus was the first to speak.

"James, Harry, if I could have a private word with you outside, I'd appreciate it. The rest of you, continue, please, until I return."

Dumbledore led James and Harry into another room, away from the meeting and the curious ears of the rest of the household.

"I understand where both of you are coming from," Albus started.

"Then there aren't going to be any 'but's' about it, Albus," James told him. "Harry and I are a part of this war. We're a part of this fight; hell, Harry _is_ the fight! I'll be damned if any of you are going to stop either of us from doing our part in getting ready for Harry to take Voldemort out!"

"James, that's not the only issue at hand. Harry is far from ready to duel Voldemort head on." Dumbledore reminded both of them in a soft voice. "I agree Harry should be kept better informed of what we know to help him in readying himself. I also agree that you should be the one to work with him. However, we cannot forget that a war is raging as we speak. As much as it is similar to the previous war, James, it is not the same. Lest we lose our guard, we will lose the war."

James sighed. "Albus admit it. You need me. You _want_ me in this fight."

James pointedly stared Albus in the eye awaiting a reply. Harry clenched his jaw in seeing just how pretentious and cocky his father could be. However, he saw it as an attribute more so than an undesirable trait. He could instantly tell that when James wanted something, he'd work to make sure he got it. When he was right, he was right and if you chose to disagree with him, so be it; it wouldn't stop him.

"James it isn't always what we want that-"

James rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in frustration. "_Shove_ it, Albus! You know I respect you, you know that I admire you, but _damn it_, you aren't the only one that knows what's right! Forget your damn, floozy advice! At this point, all the Order is to me and my son is protection. We'll fight our own fight."

Harry silently gulped behind his father. Was that such a good idea? The Order was filled with talented people who had been working against Voldemort diligently. Could James and Harry alone be able to handle it?

"James, that isn't the best idea." Albus remained calm, as always. "You must remember the possible consequences of Voldemort and the Deatheaters learning that you are alive. For Voldemort to know that not only did Harry survive him, but you did as well, will be a hard shock to him."

"I realize this, Albus, which is why you _should_ be taking full advantage of me. It doesn't matter, Harry's what matters."

"He's still young, James," Albus said.

"And look what I've been through so far," Harry cried. "I deserve to know!"

James raised his eyebrows at Albus.

"James, I think the best thing for you to do is to talk with Erica before you come to any rash decisions. It's been a long day for the both of you," Albus advised.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I think it's best for you to return to Hogwarts and for Harry to join his friends. Upstairs," he clarified.

"If Voldemort didn't stop me, do you think you will?" James asked his old Headmaster and the wizard he once claimed as his mentor.

"It is a sad day when the teacher is no longer needed," Albus simply replied. "I look forward to us speaking on this matter soon."

And with that, Dumbledore retreated to the meeting leaving James and Harry alone.

"Dad?" Harry looked at James, curiously.

"Harry, if there's one thing you need to know about being a Potter, it's determination. Never back down when you know you deserve it or that you're right," James told him.

Harry nodded. "So, now what?"

James turned and looked at his son, his face falling from a strong, resolute expression to a soft, emotional one. He smiled, bowing his head slightly and running a hand through is messy hair.

"He is right, not that I'd dare tell him that," James chuckled. "It's been a long day. I'm sure we both have a lot to think about."

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

James grinned. "A Marauder's promise, son. Our life's just beginning, right?"

Harry grinned back. "Right."

James walked over and enveloped Harry in a caring hug.

"Owl me if you need anything, Harry. I'll be at Hogwarts tonight."

"Okay. Bye, Dad."

"Bye, Harry." James backed through the doorway. He waved. "I love you, Harry."

Before Harry could respond with the same, James was gone.

Harry stared at the empty air where his father had just been standing and smiled again. He had just spent the day with his father. His real father, who looked just like him and who was one of the most loving, conceited wizards he had ever met.

It had been a good day. And whatever outcome the Order came to, Harry didn't care. For once, he wasn't concerned with Voldemort – he knew he'd be all right now.

* * *

James apparated to Hogsmeade. He stopped at the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer and a hello to Rosmerta. He didn't stay long with so much on his mind, but the short visit calmed him down from his arguments.

Severus Snape hadn't changed one bit. He was the same slimy, annoying git he'd always been. James hadn't been expecting any less, but if _Snivellus_ thought he could continue berating Harry, he had something coming.

As James walked the familiar path back to the castle, he took in the fresh country air and the quietness the wilderness induced. He was tired, he realized; he hadn't slept the night before at all.

But it was worth it, getting his son back. Harry was everything and more that James could hope for. Lily would be so proud of him, as well. James was determined to make life easier for Harry now. He would be reminded daily that he had a proud parent standing beside him for full support, a proud, _loving_ parent.

Now all James had to do was work on getting things his way.

_Of course,_ he thought, _I've managed pretty well at that before._ He smirked as he picked up a rock and threw it towards the lake. He watched the small stone skip before disappearing beneath the waves.

_If I can win Lily's heart, I can win anything._

**. . . . . . _huggles n cookies_ . . . . . **

**. . . . . . . . . . _missers_ . . . . . . . . . .**


	12. Rekindled Dreams

**Chapter Twelve – Rekindled Dreams**

"_When we become aware that we do not have to escape our pains, but that we can mobilize them into a common search for life, those very pains are transformed from expressions of despair into signs of hope."_

_Henri Nouwen_

…&…

"So I heard it didn't take you long to crawl back into your skin." Erica sat down in the sand next to James. Rather than acknowledging her, he remained facing the Great Lake. She kicked her shoes off and touched her toes to the lapping water. "In fact, I've heard you amused quite a few with your remarks yesterday."

Stretching his legs in front of him, James leaned back with his arms holding him up. The sun was barely above the treetops but the day already had a balmy, lazy feel to it. A warm breeze tossed the cumulus clouds about in the sky, forming constantly changing shapes.

"I'd imagine you're referring to my loss of temper," James lethargically replied. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before tilting his head, still watching the sky.

Erica couldn't suppress a chuckle, "Loss of temper is putting it mildly, James. I'd categorize that as your infamously known conceited and cocky attitude. On the bright side, however, the majority of the Order members are beyond thrilled you're back, and quite delighted in witnessing said behavior yesterday."

James raised his eyebrows and turned his head towards her grinning face. "I'm sorry, were you trying to make me feel better or just patronize me?"

She openly laughed, making herself more comfortable in the sand. "A little of both, perhaps. At any rate, after everything you experienced yesterday, I guessed that you might like someone to talk things over with."

"And you automatically thought that person could be you?" He turned back towards the lake, watching the sky in the distance. Birds sang out in the background against the methodic rhythm the water produced.

"You don't have to talk to me if you'd rather not," Erica shrugged, her gaze following his. "Although I could offer you unbiased opinion on matters, you aren't actually a client of mine. It's not as though you're wasting your money not speaking to me while I sit next to you."

James scrunched his nose, contemplating her words. "For some strange feeling, I get that was meant to be a guilt trip." He sighed, falling slowly onto his back and closing his eyes. "I just have a lot of thinking to do. I think."

"You did have quite an eventful day yesterday," Erica agreed. "You've had an eventful week."

"I've had an eventful _life_," he corrected her. He threw an arm across his face, blocking the sun from his eyes. "I suppose I'd make quite a character on one of those muggle soap operas, you think?"

"I could definitely curl up on a comfy couch and read a book about all of your adventures," Erica mused.

"I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not," James groaned.

Erica lay back in the sand with him, using her arms as a pillow behind her head. She crossed her ankles and sighed. "Well, let's start with the most important - Harry."

"Merlin, Erica," James moved his arm up his forehead in order to see Erica. "He's so…he's everything I could ask for. Hell, he's better than what I'd ask for. I could see that in just the short amount of time I spent with him yesterday."

"I must confess, I'm shocked at the ease with which you both took to each other," she admitted. "I'm not sure that I could imagine myself accepting such outrageous news so quickly. I'm happy for you, James."

James smiled, looking up at the sky. "I am too. Merlin. Just thinking about him makes me happy, it makes some of the heartache go away."

"The heartache?"

"It's…fascinating, I suppose, the way I feel. For so many years, I felt as though I had this infinite whole inside of me. Without my memory to guide me forward, I had no expectations. I dreamed of one day regaining my past and that _unsettling_ feeling would finally vanish. I always pictured it this grand homecoming where things would instantly fall into place."

"It isn't quite working out that way?" Erica wrinkled her forehead in thought.

James didn't respond immediately. A short silence fell upon them as he considered the words to describe his thoughts.

"I want what's rightfully mine," he finally responded with a hardened voice. "Seeing Harry, Merlin, Erica, I can't explain to you what feelings that brings. It's something only a parent would understand. And seeing him, seeing what Lily and I-"

His voice faltered, halting him from continuing. There was suddenly a lump in his throat and he was afraid of the emotions filling his core.

He sat up, wiping his hands of the sand on his jeans. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Seeing him has allowed me to remember – to remember more. I feel complete, complete in the way that I know who I am. I know that if I strain, I can remember my memories, I know what I've felt, what I've thought…but I'm not complete. I'm not whole and I can't see that I ever will be. For the rest of my life, I have to live knowing everything that I know. And…and what if that's not good enough? That's not fair to Harry." James let his pride go and the tears fall. The lump in this throat surfaced in an eruption of emotions as he bent his head down, resting his forehead on his knees.

"James." Erica tried to console him in a soft, warm voice. She rubbed his back in a circular motion. "Let it out."

His head whipped up and he glared at her through the tears. "Let what out? Let out my fears? Let out my regrets? None of that matters! I was raised…I-I, I haven't even raised my sixteen-year-old son. My entire life was spent surrounded by people who believed in me, who pushed me and who expected me to come out on top. I don't have that…I'm on my own with my losses, my mistakes, and a child who doesn't know me."

Erica tilted her head. "And those are things you can easily overcome, James. You aren't alone. You still have friends. You still have people who believe in you. You mourn your losses and you carry them in your heart. You move on for them; you move beyond your mistakes with a new understanding. And you get to know your child. You get to know your child who has wanted nothing more in his entire life than to know you."

James shook his head. "Lily. I need Lily. I always needed Lily. From the first day I saw her on the train, in first year, I've needed her since then."

"And she hasn't left you, James. She's still right here." Erica pointed to his heart. She looked into his eyes, speaking gently. "And she believed in you, James, with every fiber of her being. She loved you. And what she would want now, is for you to believe in yourself. She would want you and Harry-"

James chuckled sardonically. "You didn't know Lily that well, Erica. Merlin."

"I may not have known her well, true, but I know that you two were a match. I know that you two were a team once you did get together. And proof of that is Harry. Proof of that is the very fact that you are sitting before me."

James turned his head to face her and smiled. It was a small smile; a smile that didn't speak of laughter and happiness, but a smile that held appreciation and…hope.

"You know," he sighed, nodding his head ever so slightly. "You're right. Damn it, Erica, you're right about a lot. And I do need to get my head unstuck from the sand. I'm a proud person who has ideals and is ready to fight for them. Why the hell am I sitting here crying over the past when I have so much before me?"

Erica raised her eyebrows, shocked at his sudden turn into determination. "Well, yes, that's true."

Climbing to his feet with a resolute expression, he looked down to Erica. "I have a hell of a lot of things to do. I can't sit here and waste my time."

"James!" Erica called out to him, rushing to her feet in order to catch up with his fast pace. "What does that mean? Where are you going? What _things_ do you have to do?"

James turned towards her, walking backwards and laughed. "Well, I have my life to live, don't I? I have a son to be there for, I have a war to fight and I have revenge to seek."

Erica stopped. "Revenge?"

The maniacal laughter did nothing to ease Erica's thoughts. "Look, I know that it's your job to…understand these things and all, but you can't understand this, Erica. It's unexplainable. There were, once, only four others who would have. Now there are only three of us left."

"James, are you saying-?"

The smirk that James Potter, student, prankster and Head Boy of Hogwarts, was so well known for glimmered in the sunlight. "Erica, a Marauder never shares his secrets."

And with that, James Potter jogged off from Erica and disappeared.

She had a feeling the next time they met, things may very well be quite different.

* * *

James apparated into the alley nearest his apartment building, thankful no muggles were around to notice. They usually weren't at this time; it was midmorning on a beautiful summer's day.

With a fulfilling sigh, James entered the building and walked straight to Tiffany's flat. She'd be home, of course, probably trying to sleep after a long night working the bar. James didn't care. He needed to talk to her. She knew him as Evan, which was half of who he was. She'd be able to help him sort things out in his mind.

He knocked on the door and waited patiently for her to answer. She opened the door with a yawn, her dark hair astray, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

"Ev- James?" She looked at him with curious eyes. "I know I said we should talk soon, but I figured you'd spend a few days with your son."

James laughed, walking in and making himself feel at home, as he'd done for so many years now. Tiffany followed him to the couch, sitting with a leg curled up under her and stared at him.

"He's beautiful, you know? Looks just like you," Tiffany told him seriously.

James beamed. He'd never been more proud than at this particular moment. He couldn't explain it. He had no way of properly making anyone understand his sudden change in acceptance. He wasn't sure himself, what exactly had occurred. Something Erica said, or a look she'd given had triggered it. It had a domino effect, affecting all his senses. All he knew now was that he had a mission – his life and his dreams.

"I'm so proud of him, Tiff, you just don't even understand," James nodded. He let his head fall back for a moment before stretching out on the couch and sighing.

"Okay…" Tiffany, still curious and a bit confused at his sudden visit, cocked her head sideways. "What's going on?"

James laughed. "I have no idea! I just know, Tiff, that I'm ready."

"Ready for what, exactly?"

"Everything."

"To throw yourself in your world, risk your life, raise a sixteen year old son; accept fifteen years worth of changes? All in the span of one night you've become ready?"

"No. All in the span of about two minutes, I've become ready."

Tiffany couldn't help but laugh. "Good to know that some things never change. You're still irrational."

"I am, aren't I?" He grinned at her. "Look, I wanted to talk to you about things, though. It's going to be rough, Tiff. Things are going to get bad."

Tiffany's smile faded. "What do you mean? This war?"

"My life. Everything you just listed."

Tiffany sighed. "Are we ever going to sit in a café for hours and talk about nothing again?"

He gave her a comforting smile. "Of course we will. I couldn't give those up, Tiff."

"So," she resituated herself on the couch for comfort. "What are you going to do? And please, tell me why you are going to do these things. I have a feeling they're going to seem quite irrational when I first hear them."

* * *

James and Tiffany sat for hours in her flat. They didn't move from the couch except to make some tea in the early afternoon. And even then, the conversation never stopped. James told her of his plans, his dreams, his wants and his desires. He told her how he felt and the emotions different people evoked. He told her of his past, first hand, and all he once lived for.

Tiffany cried, laughed, worried and argued. She sympathized, empathized even, at what this man felt he held on his plate. She supported him, not fully understanding the full impact James's plans would have.

And she never once yearned for her Evan Gryffin. He was a man she had grown to love, grown to trust and protect. He'd given to her what she needed the most; proof of honest people and dreams that never died.

She didn't need Evan Gryffin any more than James Potter needed him.

James Potter was someone she needed in her life. A man worthy of admiration for his determination and confidence. A friend, through and through, full of love and hate. He was real. Tiffany needed real. She needed to know that dreams were worth risking all that she knew for. She needed to understand that dreams change, but they never fade.

"So you need a wand, James," Tiffany reminded him.

"I do. Getting a wand requires a trip to Diagon Alley and a visit with Mr. Ollivander."

"And Albus? You weren't serious last night, were you? You aren't going to leave the safety of the Order just to prove your macho-ism?"

James laughed. "I'd never turn my back on Albus. But honestly, someone needs to put him in his place every once in a while."

"And I don't doubt that you and your friends ever hesitated to do so," she laughed.

Grinning, James rose from his seat. He drank the last swallow of his tea before setting it down on the end table with a sigh.

"What?" Tiffany asked.

"It still hurts."

"Betrayal?"

"Betrayal, wrongful accusations, lies…loss."

"The pain may never go away, James, don't seek for it to vanish. You must learn to understand it, control it, use it for betterment."

James coughed out a laugh. "Thanks, Dumbledore. I'll see you, soon, all right? You, me and Harry – we'll do lunch."

Tiffany nodded. "I look forward to it."

She watched his retreating back a moment, before calling out to him.

"Yeah?" He turned towards her before shutting the door.

"Would it be useless to say be careful?"

A moment of silence passed that was neither reassuring nor panicking. "Lily learned that pretty quickly, too."

"I think Lily was damn smart," Tiffany smiled.

"She was. She married me, didn't she?" He winked and shut the door.

* * *

"You think-?" Remus gaped at Erica. "No, James can be a bit ridiculous at times, but he's not stupid."

Erica sighed. "Look, all I'm saying is I have no idea where he ran off to and the way his mood suddenly changed, the look in his eyes, the way he _laughed_, I'm just worried that he's going to do something he shouldn't."

Albus Dumbledore had called Remus and Erica to meet him in his office after hearing Erica's concern. The last thing they needed at this moment was to worry about James's occasional irrational behavior.

"James always does something he shouldn't," Remus tried to make light of the matter.

Erica didn't laugh. Neither did Dumbledore.

Remus sighed, slinking into a chair in front of Albus's desk. "Okay, so I admit the possibility is there, but James has no way of doing anything."

"He found Harry yesterday, didn't he?" Erica reminded him. "He managed to make quite a stir at the meeting last night. His mind is still undergoing quite a large amount of shock, Remus. He's liable to do anything, anything and think it's justified when it isn't."

"Revenge isn't justified in his case?" Remus snapped.

"A man that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well," Albus interjected. "Sir Francis Bacon once said that."

"Philosophical authors are magicians in their own right with words. It doesn't always lend that they are right," Remus countered.

"So you'd approve?" Erica asked, bewildered at Remus's obvious support.

He shrugged, glancing quickly at his old Headmaster. "Surely, you can understand that some things aren't meant to be understood."

Erica sighed, "Did I mention James said something similar?"

Remus smiled. "Then it only means I'm more right than you'd ever be willing to admit."

"Remus, dare I remind you that you aren't the young men you once were." Dumbledore sat in his chair behind his desk, his hands folded neatly in his lap.

Remus leaned further back in his own chair, contemplating the possibilities and the meanings. Although his emotions were shocked and thrown so far he hardly felt the need to feel anything at all, he slowly smiled.

He'd almost had a heart attack when Albus told him James was alive. He'd easily had a stroke upon finding the James Potter he'd imagined standing in that forest if it hadn't been for James's ease. He'd worried and stressed so much the day before he was sure to have gained many more gray hairs. He'd laughed at his mate's antics and felt like crying for his hardships.

But this smile that adorned Remus's face presently was a smile that Remus had not felt in years. When he found out the truth, and found Sirius before him once again, he'd rejoiced in the pleasure of friendship again. They shared memories, but they also shared pain, regret and worry.

Those emotions still existed in Remus's mind, but no longer in his heart. Remus wanted to laugh. He _needed_ to laugh. He felt high. He felt amazing. He felt younger and hopeful again.

"Dare I remind you that we were never either old or young," Remus finally replied.

Erica let out a frustrated sigh. "Dare I remind both of you what we're dealing with? Not only do we have James's over worked mind to worry about, his overloaded emotions are going to lead him straight to exhaustion. Not to mention Harry. Not to mention aside from all these flying emotions and discoveries, there is a certain amount of _safety_ that we need to focus on."

Remus and Dumbledore locked eyes. Remus would never know what the old wizard was thinking and he'd surely never understand him, but they would reach a silent agreement.

"I can't stop him, Erica, no one can," Remus turned to the flustered witch. "When James Potter gets an idea in his head, there's no stopping it."

Erica flopped defeated into a chair. "Yes, I can only be glad that Sirius Black isn't by his side to edge him on."

Days ago, this comment would have made Remus flinch. The memory of Sirius was still near the surface and still hurt. Today, however, it made him chuckle.

"You will look for him, Remus?" Albus asked.

Remus stood. "I will."

Erica looked up at him. "I admire you immensely, Remus Lupin."

"Why is that, Erica Welling?"

"You are, perhaps, the strongest wizard I've had the pleasure of meeting," she smiled.

"It's not a matter of strength, Erica, as much as it is the focus on the dream." He nodded to both before excusing himself from Dumbledore's office.

Erica felt Albus's eyes on her and turned towards him. "Yes, sir?"

"You have no idea how much that meant to him."

Erica smiled, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. "I may not understand, Albus, but I respect that which drives us forward."

* * *

The tapping on his door made James jump. He hadn't been expecting any visitors; no one even knew he was here. He pushed the shoebox of photographs across the table and answered the door.

"Moony," James grinned, always happy to see a friend.

Remus laughed. "Prongs. Are you busy?"

James moved to let Remus walk inside. "Nah, I'm actually glad you found me."

"Seems like you left the castle rather quickly this morning," Remus mentioned. James waved his hand toward the table for Remus to sit while he headed to the kitchen for tea. "Erica became a little-"

"Worried?" James called from the kitchen with a chuckle. "She seems to take everything she touches straight to her heart. I suppose that's what makes her such a respected doctor?"

Remus smiled, his curiosity winning the best of him and pulling James's pictures towards him. "She cares, Prongs. Reminds me of someone else, you know."

James outright laughed. "Yes, that one didn't give up so easily though. Had I walked away from her like I walked away from Erica she would have cursed me before I made it too far."

Remus was skimming through the pictures, pictures of London and people he didn't know. He recognized James in some of them and Tiffany in others. "She was a stubborn one."

Before Remus knew it, James was sitting at the table, a cup of tea before both of them. James looked at his old friend with seriousness in his hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry, Remus," James suddenly proclaimed. His hazel eyes held a glaze of sadness and regret.

Remus put the pictures down and gazed at his old friend. "You've nothing to apologize for, James. Life has dealt us both many blows and we've overcome them."

"No. The thought ran though my mind that you were the traitor before we found out it was Peter. Sirius thought it, too. You've spent the last fifteen years with _pained_ memories while I didn't."

"You didn't have _any_ memories, James. That can hardly be compared. The apology is accepted, I didn't do much to make you think otherwise at the time."

James sighed. "What happened to us, Moony? When did we fall apart? When were the Marauders no longer…the Marauders?"

"When we became individuals. It was bound to happen, Prongs. We grew up and we saw the world in different ways. The world saw each of us in different ways."

"But…betrayal." The words hissed from James's rigged mouth. Glaring eyes glossed over in emotion.

"There was betrayal, James, and there was loyalty."

James stared at Remus a moment before speaking. The years hadn't been easy on his werewolf friend and yet he sat and discussed this with such calm.

"When you realized it…"

"The truth? When I found out Sirius had remained loyal and that _Wormtail_ had betrayed you, all of us? I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill him for ruining my life. I wanted to kill him for having once been my friend, my brother, for knowing my secrets and then turning. I wanted to kill him for his weaknesses."

"Why didn't you?" James asked, the air in the flat heavy.

"Harry."

James raised his eyebrows. "Harry?"

"Harry didn't want us to," Remus explained. "Sirius and I were ready, wands out and hatred running high. But Harry told us not to, he didn't think you would have wanted it that way."

"My son saved the man who led me to my death?" James's voice read of no emotions, nothing that Remus could read.

"Was he right, James? Sirius and I believed it. Sirius said that thought of Harry's was the only thing keeping Peter alive."

"I suppose he's right beside Voldemort now?"

"As far as our sources can confirm, yes."

"Then he lives every moment in fear, Remus. He fears his master and he fears the choices he's made. He fears you walking this earth still and he fears what will become of him when Harry defeats Voldemort. But mostly, he fears the loyalty he broke."

"You wouldn't have killed him."

"I can't control my temper."

"You aren't a murderer."

The mere moments of silence engulfed the room giving the feeling of hours passing. A simple statement, a simple observation – the most complicated conviction.

"Lily once told me that death is simply a choice between forgiveness and revenge."

"That sounds like something Lily would say."

"My son is no murderer, Remus, yet he must become one."

"Your son," Remus corrected. "Is no murderer and will _not_ become one. Harry will not kill for spite and hatred."

"I betrayed you and Sirius," James chewed on his bottom lip.

"You did no such thing."

"Lily and I knew you weren't the traitor, we knew it was Peter, yet we did nothing to change Sirius's mind, we let Sirius believe that he was doing what was best for us."

"James, you _were_ doing what you thought was best. Not only for you and your family, but for the entire Wizarding world."

"I had a choice," James argued. "I had a choice to keep secret the information I knew and conceitedly think I could make a difference alone. I didn't choose the option of telling those I trusted with my life the truth."

"The truth is never easy," Remus responded simply. "You did not betray anyone, James. You gave the fight all you had and you rode your destiny. Peter is the betrayer. He had a choice between good and evil and chose his own destiny. He gave up hope and fell into his weaknesses. You know what I say is true."

"I can't help but wonder what I could have done to have stopped him, stopped him from turning; stopped him from believing."

"He simply quit dreaming, James. In my heart, Peter Pettigrew, _Wormtail_, is dead. He's been dead for many years. I mourned him and accepted his death. He no longer lives as who he once was."

James smiled, "Quick to forgiveness."

"The Marauders are not murderers. They were four young wizards who found comfort together. They were four wizards who found life could be enjoyable. The day the Marauders stopped being the Marauders was the day that we stopped believing in our dreams. And there's no turning back and fighting for lost innocence."

James swallowed, slowly nodding his head. "Always were the quick one, wise with words, Moony. You kept things in perspective, the way it ought to have been."

Remus chuckled. "We were quite the balancing act, weren't we?"

"I can't believe, even after everything, that Peter chose this for himself; not the way it appears to have happened."

"I don't believe it, either. I don't really think Sirius did, although he never admitted it. It was black and white for Padfoot. But it's Peter that we're talking of, not you or Sirius. Or even Snape for that matter."

James scrunched his nose at the mention of Severus Snape. "It's true, though. Peter was shown something that he thought our side couldn't give him. He chose the easy way out, the way he thought would be safe."

"You think that he thought Voldemort would win?"

"I don't think Peter thought of anything more than his own safety," James sighed. "I think it's partially why Lily and I felt we could handle Peter's treachery. Every move that Peter made after Lily and I figured him out was precisely what we expected. He was running scared when he was running then; and he hasn't stopped."

"You realize that he lived as the Weasley's rat all those years?"

James took a deep breath. "I do, and if it weren't for the reasoning he outwardly had, I'd appreciate his luck for finding an _owner_ that befriended my son. He's only, as he's always been, within arms reach for anyone."

"He can't turn back, now, James, if that's what your thinking."

"I wouldn't want him to," James said flatly. "It's a choice between forgiveness and revenge."

The afternoon sunlight cast an eerie shadow into the flat. A shiver ran simultaneously down both men's spine as the realization hit them. That which can be shiny and warm can be deceiving.

"It couldn't have happened any other way," Remus suddenly spoke again.

James looked at him questionably. "It's a damn shame, then."

"I've wondered, over the years, particularly when I was teaching at Hogwarts, what would have happened had Voldemort chosen the Longbottom's."

James nodded, "You don't know how many times that's raced through my mind. It was something that Lily and I discussed at length. They were our friends and we didn't wish harm upon them. We didn't wish the pressure and the responsibility that this choice thrust upon us on anyone. But it was a burden we chose to accept."

"Neville and Harry are friends," Remus pointed out. "Neville's a Gryffindor, as well. He has the strength but doesn't realize it. I've visited Frank and Alice a few times."

James shook his head. "Two boys who should have had their parents."

Remus pretended not to notice the tears building in James's eyes. Perhaps, having grown up without their parents - who were considered heroes in their own rights - helped mold them into the strong Gryffindors that they were. Once fate spoke, there was no way of knowing what could have been.

"Neville's grandmother has done a fine job with him," Remus said quietly.

"And Harry?" The anger building behind James's pulsating eyes was obvious. "Did the Dursley's do a find job with Harry? He raised himself! No boy, let alone the Boy-Who-Lived, _let alone my son_, should have to raise his self."

"Considering the position Petunia was put in, James-"

"Don't make excuses for her, Moony," James's look softened slightly. "How does she think Lily would have felt knowing the way she chose to raise her son?"

"The very fact that she took him in says something."

James sighed, angry, frustrated and feeling a need to…to…do _something_. "Where's Harry at today?"

"At Grimmauld Place," Remus answered. "I must admit, I'm surprised you aren't with him."

James rose from his seat. "There'll be time for that, trust me Remus. This is one thing I'm sure about."

Remus looked him in the eyes, wondering how many times he had said those words before. Of course, he'd always been right. Remus wondered if he said those words that night, the night that nothing had been sure.

But Remus knew that this time was different. James was not the same James Potter he had been fifteen years ago. He was not the same boy he had been when he attended Hogwarts. No, James Potter was definitely something more than he had once been. He had more of an understanding these days. He had more to gain and less to lose. And he wouldn't lose what he was only now regaining back.

"Prongs, I do believe you have things to do," Remus smirked - that old Marauder smirk that meant no good.

James passed him a lop-sided grin. "It's simple, really. Just a choice between forgiveness and revenge."

* * *

……_**huggles and cookies ……**_

………**..._missers©_...**


	13. An Afternoon Tea

**Chapter Thirteen – An Afternoon Tea**

_**The only way to live fully is with pain and understanding, with truth.**_

_**-Charlotte Levy**_

**…_&…_**

_The air was turning crisp and cool as the winds blew in the cold rain. October moved in, turning leaves golden but bringing cloudy days and melancholy. As the days grew shorter, James and Lily Potter grew more tired. Hope began to wane as the weather transfixed their desperation for all to sense._

_Diligently focusing on what they were sure would be a perfect plan, if only it involved perfect execution, their time was stretched between the baby and work. Although it was certain they were among the most targeted of Voldemort, their determination refused to let them stop fighting. For the sake of their child, they would never accept defeat._

_But alas, even the strong have weaknesses, and the Potter's began to realize their own. Exhausted and worn, they missed the moments - so often now few and far between –where happiness elated their souls. Only in the presence of Harry, or those few times they had alone to truly look within each other's eyes, did they feel this._

_Lily's vibrant demeanor hollowed as she blankly peered out the back door. James watched, feeling helpless at the distraught look on his wife's face. She stood, one arm tucked across her chest, the other hanging limply at her side. _

"_Lils, let's take the evening off." He approached her slowly, standing beside her in the doorway. With one sweep across the garden, he took in the foreboding feeling overcoming her. "We need some time."_

"_James, we may not _have_ time," she replied, her eyes never leaving the window. "We can't risk the chance of not being fully prepared."_

"_We may never _be_ fully prepared, love," James sighed. His heart hurt thinking of the possibilities, but his heart was full of hurt these days; no sense in being disillusioned._

_Lily looked up into her husband's eyes with sorrow. It wasn't sorrow for their predicament – that, she'd accepted - but a sorrow for their losses. Not a single regret crossed her mind; she had learned to appreciate every breath taken. Still, there were times and people that she missed as the future lied in their hands._

"_Have we taken on a task too complex and too void of hopefulness?" _

"_A chance taken is only a risk for change. If not us, the Longbottom's. We chose, Lil. We're strong."_

_The smallest of smiles, just enough for James to see, adorned her face as she relaxed against his frame. He wrapped his arms around, holding her tight, and kissed the crown of her head._

"_Is it wrong to admit I'm afraid?"_

"_No." He took a deep breath. "I'm afraid, too. But I have faith in our love."_

"_Do you really believe that love can save anything?" _

"_Isn't that what you told me?"_

"_We're facing our possible death by a man who doesn't believe in love."_

"_I believe in ours, and that is enough to help me move mountains. It's no longer about being a hero, Lils; it hasn't been for a long time. It's about providing life."_

"_We didn't choose, James. He's a coward and chose the easiest way out."_

_James sighed, unable to decipher which 'he' she was referring to. Voldemort, Peter…another if they were wrong in their suspicion. Honestly, he'd made a choice years ago when he decided to give his life to the fight. It pained him to think of his son and the meek possibilities that may lie before him. _

_Lily turned in his arms to face him. Her eyes were lucid with too many emotions. Among those, a sparkle that shined like the light at the end of a dark tunnel. She was his beacon, his call to stand his ground. She believed in him, and for that alone, he'd never give up. He'd fight until his last breath for her, for Harry – for _them_. He made a promise, as hazel and emerald swirled to become one, that in his deepest despair, he'd reach within for the love that moved him. He'd reach beyond the betrayal, the lies, the _hurt_, and even the lost memories. _

"_He loved you once, James, and somewhere in the depths of his heart, he hurts for the choices he has made."_

"_I can't forgive this, Lily. That's asking too much."_

"_You can't hold against him his weaknesses; it's the one thing you must give him. He always gave that to you."_

"_He turned against us; he's been using our trust to spy."_

"_And his own will come with time. We don't know the ending."_

_James smiled, letting out a deep breath and looked at his wife with love. "Is that why you still love Petunia with unexplainable conviction?"_

"_She is my sister, my blood. There are things between us that can't be with anyone else and will always be a part of us both. Neither of us may be who we'd like for us to be, but never will there come a time of need that would be ignored." _

"_She hates us," he softly reminded her._

"_No, James, she doesn't hate _us_. She _dislikes_ what is not her. If there is once a time of love, there will always be a love within."_

"_And you'd choose forgiveness over seeking revenge for the hurt she's caused you?"_

"_Choosing between forgiveness and revenge is death, James. I live for what I love."_

"_I love you, Lily Potter."_

_The smile reached her eyes as she responded, Harry crying out with a happy giggle in the background. "And I love you, James Potter."_

**…&…**

The front gardens and flowerbeds were impeccably manicured with hydrangeas that looked award winning. The house stood as all the rest on the street, nothing outstanding and nothing below standard. It was perfectly fitting.

Just past mid afternoon, James was sure that she'd be home. From what he knew and what he'd been told, surely she'd be finishing her day's gossip to begin the evening ritual of serving her family.

James sighed, thinking it could have been all right, had it only worked out. He cringed again, at the thought of Lily knowing. Had this been what she expected? Would this have been enough for her? Would she still believe what carried her through so much hurt?

_Standing here isn't accomplishing anything_, he thought as he walked to the front door. He hesitated for a moment, before knocking, unsure of what he'd say when she answered. For a brief moment, he questioned if he should be there at all.

They were _family_, like it or not. He had to believe in what Lily believed. He had to believe in Lily.

He knocked.

Once again finding himself nervous, he ran a hand through his thick mass of hair. He cleared his throat before noticing his reflection in the glass door.

Gone were the dark circles beneath the eyes. Gone were the shadowy cheekbones, the pale hue of his skin, even the emptiness behind the glasses. He saw James Potter staring back at him, and with perfect timing to the opening of the door, he grinned.

Silence greeted the grin.

Now, in the past few days, James had been the receiver of quite a few massive shocks. Likewise, _he_ had given plenty a surprising shock. By now, the initial reaction of speechlessness and paling was not unnerving.

However, James did not think it was humanly possible for a person to look as pale, with such a contorted expression, as Petunia did as she stared at him. Her knuckles gripped the front door so tightly, James was sure they'd break from the pressure. Just by looking at her, he could feel the effects of her heart dropping and her not breathing.

"Petunia," James nodded his head, unsure how to start the conversation. He feared sending her into an unconscious shock or worse.

"Oh God…oh God, oh God…you…you're…oh God…"

It was obvious James needed to take control of the situation. No matter how much they never got along, she was still his wife's sister, his son's aunt, and he didn't think Lily would appreciate, even by accident, James causing any health related harm to her.

"Yes, Petunia, it is me, James. And yes, I am alive. I understand the shock I'm causing you, but really, I must insist that you breathe," James raised his eyebrows to her. He did his best, honestly, to _not_ be condescending towards her, but it just came out so naturally.

Her head clicked back slightly from the assault, and her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him from head to toe. He watched as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes when she exhaled. Her grip on the door lightened slightly as her head began to sway back and forth.

"Petunia!" James rushed forward just in time to catch her as she fainted. He frantically looked around for help, but she was home alone. He shifted her in his arms for a better hold and kicked the front door shut.

Walking her into the living room, James noticed the family photos. He chuckled to himself thinking of how their precious Dudley had turned out – just like Vernon. Once realizing there wasn't a single picture of Harry, or Lily or her parents for that matter, James felt like growling. He dropped Petunia onto the couch. _This is not going to be easy,_ he told himself with a sigh.

"Petunia, wake up," he began to shake her shoulder. He ran a hand through his hair with a confused look on his face. What was he supposed to do now? He shook her again, and this time she began to stir.

"Hey, Petunia, wake up. Can I get you something? A glass of water maybe?" James offered as she blinked and began to lift her head up.

She looked into James's eyes and her dazed expression turned into one of horror. She opened her mouth to scream, but James put a hand over her mouth, irritated.

"For Merlin's sake, Petunia! I realize you have issues when things happen that aren't _normal_, but do you have to over-react?" He stepped back and fell into a chair opposite the couch with a huff.

"Over-react? You think I'm over-reacting? You're dead! You're my dead sister's dead husband!" Petunia cried.

"Well, I realize that, but is screaming really necessary?"

She opened her mouth to respond but quickly shut it. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him while he silently sat in the chair, drumming his fingers on the arm and staring at the floor.

"Okay, so I'll cut right to the point." James looked up at her and started. "I'm alive, I never died; I had amnesia for fifteen years and recently recovered. I just thought, as family, you should know. I would thank you for taking care of my son, but I don't think what you've done deserves a sentiment of any kind. The one I'd like to give you, Lily wouldn't approve of, so I'll keep my mouth shut."

Petunia's look of shock and awe vanished as she took offense. Her eyes squared and she scrunched her nose.

"Excuse me?"

"Do I really need to explain myself further?" James sighed with a roll of his eyes.

"How dare you come into my house and-"

"Speak to you like this?" James laughed. "Remus told me of the threat you tried to throw at him. Really, you hardly pose as threatening, Petunia. You posses none of the fire your sister's temper did."

He knew that'd shut her up. He knew he'd struck a cord to which she'd have nothing to reply with. He'd done it on purpose, just as he had done so many years before. He was sure, since Lily assured it, there was something worth liking Petunia for, but he had yet to find it. Her zealous jealousy for Lily that caused her hateful attitude infuriated James.

"You _freak_. You…you…"

"Is that how you honor Lily? Do you still refer to her as a freak, Petunia? She never stopped loving you or believing in you, even after all the hurt you caused her. To her last _breath_, Petunia, she swore she'd do anything for you. And to this day, you still act childish enough to call me a _freak_? Merlin!"

"Don't talk to me about my sister," she snapped.

"No, we _are_ going to talk about her. You're going to talk about her and you're going to tell me why you couldn't bother giving my son, your own damned _nephew_, even a slight amount of love!"

"No!" She screamed. "No! You! You came from that…that _world_ of hers and you took what little chance I had of rehabilitating her! And because she loved _you_, she lost her life! And then I get your son! I get that child lying on my doorstep and he's _just like you_! He's just like _her_! And he looks…he looks like you…with her eyes…_God_, her green eyes."

The tears started rolling down Petunia's face with vigor. Her fingers curled and uncurled at a fast pace while her legs began to shake.

James was actually speechless. He'd never seen Petunia like this. Well, he had hardly seen Petunia that much, she'd always had an excuse to not be at family functions that James and Lily attended. She hadn't come to their wedding and they hadn't been invited to hers.

James swallowed. "Listen, this is really important to me to talk to you. I need to do this. I need to talk to you for her sake, Petunia."

"Shut up!" She yelled at him. "She didn't care! She found out she was a freak and forgot everything else! I hated her!"

Taking a deep breath to keep himself calm, James scooted to the edge of the chair and looked at Petunia. He had expected her to react irrationally, she always did when he was around, but this wasn't what he'd figured. It seemed like she was letting pent-up emotions out.

"That isn't true," he simply responded.

She stopped all of her actions and looked right back at him. Silence ensued as an uncomforting air fell around them. Neither had a solid reason for the dislike of each other, it had just fallen that way. She, because he was one of them, someone from her sister's world and he because of the hatred she treated Lily with.

"_I have to warn you, James, my sister isn't going to…react very rationally meeting you." Lily reminded him. She smiled, perhaps laughing inside at the possible scene that was about to play out, but that smile didn't quite reach her eyes._

_James grinned back. "I can handle her."_

"_Just…" Lily sighed. "It's not important how she treats you, okay? My parents love you. I love you. That's all that matters."_

_James closed the small gap between them and pulled her into a hug. He buried his head into her hair and closed his eyes. "She can fire at will, Lily; it's just a cover for her true feelings. She can't possibly hate you as much as she says. You're too wonderful."_

"_James." He could hear the roll of her eyes through the sound of her voice. He smiled though, hearing her let out a quiet giggle and hug him tighter. "You're too good to me, you know that?"_

"_I'm not," he stepped back and brushed her hair behind her ear. "Honestly, I don't know if I'll ever be able to treat you as good as you deserve, but I swear to Merlin I'm going to try."_

_This time, the smile reached her eyes as she leaned up and kissed him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close to her once again. _

"_You make all my dreams come true," she whispered in his ear._

**…_&…_**

_Petunia scowled. The lovey-dovey talk was sickening. No wonder her sister was going to marry this freak, he practically groveled at her feet. She was glad her Vernon wasn't that desperate to show his feelings for her. She knew how he felt, the sweet nothings weren't necessary._

_She sighed, watching them through the doorway. She watched as he lifted her off her feet and twirled her around. She watched as they both laughed, light and happiness radiating from their faces._

_It would figure that Lily would end up like this, happy and with the perfect life. Her younger sister had always been the one that life gave the breaks to. She was pretty with the perfect hair, the perfect features and the exquisite eyes. She was the outgoing and sociable child who received all the attention from extended family and friends; the one strangers took notice of immediately, always commenting on the little 'angel'. It was Lily who turned out to have the special talent, to be the first witch in the family, to be extraordinary. It was she who left Petunia to sit idly aside and bear witness to the perfect life. _

_And this _boy_ that Lily was in love with only inflated her ego. From the way their mother spoke, he was charming and sweet. He flattered everyone he met with his sense of humor and ease of conversation. He showered Lily with love and affection. He treated her as though she were royalty, as though she were something more _special_ than anyone else._

_Petunia blinked, pushing those damned self-pity tears away. She hadn't needed Lily for the past seven years and she certainly didn't need a groping _freak_ to be a part of her life now, either. Let them stay in their abnormal world of magic, dragons and everything else that fairytales were made of; Petunia didn't need it. She had Vernon Dursley, with his promising job at Grunnings and his appeal to all things normal; he was perfect. He didn't act out in bouts of unnecessary passion. And he _certainly_ wasn't a freak._

_Petunia straightened up, shook her head of all the silly thoughts, and headed for the door. No, she certainly didn't need freaks like her sister in her life._

"W-what do you want?" Petunia finally spoke. She glanced towards the window, hoping no neighbors could see inside; that no one saw her faint and hash out as she had. She couldn't bear to be the root of gossip.

"A cup of tea would be a nice start," James suggested. "Maybe a rational discussion at the table? I'll promise to make an attempt at keeping my temper under control if you could possibly do the same."

James wasn't sure what made her agree to his suggestion: A breakdown in her defenses? A want to talk about her sister? Fear of what James could, had he gotten his wand, do to her? Whatever it was, Petunia nodded and quickly walked into the kitchen to begin the tea.

James slowly stood, taking his time walking to the table. The photographs lining the walls once again captured his attention. The Dursley's were a nice, normal family. There seemed to be nothing unusual or unique about them, and James guessed that was exactly as Petunia wanted it to be.

James made himself comfortable at the table and waited patiently for Petunia to serve the tea. Neither spoke while the water boiled. James didn't want to run the risk of her flinging the hot water at him. He looked out the window and saw the perfectly manicured backyard and gardens. The sun was still shining and a slight breeze waved the leaves about.

"I never cried," Petunia set the cup of tea in front of him before sitting on the other side of the table. She encircled her own cup with her hands and focused her gaze on the swirling tea bag. "I refused to allow myself to mourn someone I didn't know."

"You could have known her. She would have liked you to have known her. You were always important to her."

Petunia looked up, but not at James. Inanimate objects were less emotional to look at. "She was too busy for me to have been important to her."

"No, you were too busy insulting her and her life to realize all she wanted was her big sister back. She cried on our wedding day when you didn't come. She cried the day of your wedding because she hadn't been invited, even though your parents insist that we go. We didn't; she didn't want to ruin your day as you had done hers."

Petunia swallowed. "She got everything. She received all the praise and all the attention. When she was little, she'd share it with me, she included me…then that first owl came."

"And you're going to sit here and tell me that she didn't want to share that with you as well?" James scrunched his forehead. Lily had been many things, but selfish hadn't been one of them.

The tears slowly started forming again. "No, I'm not going to tell you that. She became something that I couldn't connect with. And she left me to go off to that school. She'd come home and have so many stories and talk of all these strange things she could do. Her letters were filled with tales that had once just been part of our imaginations. Our parents missed her so much, they talked about her constantly…as if I wasn't even there."

"It wasn't her fault," James whispered. "She never meant to push you into shadows; she loved you and looked up to you. She believed in the relationship you two once shared and she never gave up hope that you'd reconcile someday."

"You can't sit here and make her out to be perfect! She _wasn't_. She had problems, too! She…she made me look like I was abnormal for not having any special talents like _magic_. She was selfish and conceited and a show-off. _She_ was a freak!"

James took a deep breath again. He closed his eyes and pursed his lips, reminding himself why he was glad he'd been an only child. The sibling rivalry he'd witnessed with his friends and their siblings was at times atrocious.

"No, she wasn't perfect, Petunia, but she was perfect enough for me. She wasn't normal, but she wasn't a freak, either. She happened to have the ability to use magic and she worked hard to learn what she did. She worked hard to accomplish all that she did. She was a muggle-born witch in an unsafe time but that didn't stop her from pursuing her life. She was determined and believed the best in everybody; _that's_ what made her so goddamned special! That's what set her apart from so many others, Petunia! She never stopped loving!"

"She did! She stopped loving me when she left to go to that school! She stopped caring about me! She wasn't happy when things happened to me because they didn't compare to her! She ran away into that freakish world and never looked back again! She took the hearts of our parents with her and left me with nothing. She left me with nothing but her _child_ to care for!"

"So why'd you take him?" James almost roared. He was sure that neighbors could probably hear him, which of course would upset Petunia further, but he didn't care. How could Petunia have felt this way? How could she have honestly thought that her sister had given her up? "If you hated her, her world, so _much_, why'd you take Harry?"

Her tears were raining down her face as she pounded her fists on the table and stood. "Because he was her son! Because he was all I had left of my family! He, with those goddamned green eyes and that cute baby smile like hers, was all I had left of anything that had once been mine! I _knew_ he'd be just like you, I knew he'd eventually go to that freak-of-a-school, but I had to take him. I had to protect him! It was all I had to offer!"

James rose to his feet and matched her scorned expression. "If you weren't going to raise him with love and affection then you shouldn't have taken him! If you couldn't treat him with the respect he deserved for being _a child_, your _blood-related nephew_, then you shouldn't have taken him!"

"I needed him! I needed…I needed a link…" Petunia collapsed into her chair, her head immediately in her arms on the table as she sobbed.

"Harry needed someone to love him. Harry needed someone to care for him and take care of him. He needed to know that he was special, _like everyone else_, Petunia. How dare you sit here and tell me how horrible your sister was, how she made you feel neglected when you raised your son as if he were Lily and Harry were you! You weren't neglected! You weren't forced to sleep in a _cupboard under the stairs_! You weren't made to fix meals for the rest of the family and not get to eat any of it! Maybe you feel as though you weren't treated special, but you were _certainly_ loved!"

"I…I…" Petunia looked up to James rabid face. "Every time I looked at him I saw her. It…played out in my head over and over again…"

James shook his head, "Every memory you have of her hurts you? You honestly feel like she shoved you to the side, and on _purpose_?"

A pin could be heard falling if someone had dropped one. Tears subsided into memories…

"_Petunia!" The short redhead came running, full bound towards her tall, blond sister. It was nearing the end of June and the two sisters hadn't seen each other for nearly three months._

_Rather than show her enthusiasm, how much she had missed her, Petunia scrunched her face in a disproving manner stopping Lily from jumping her with a hug._

"_Really, Lily, don't they teach you manners at that stupid school? It's not polite or very lady like to _attack_ someone," Petunia explained._

_Lily swallowed, not quite following her sister's presumptuous lecture, she gave her a confused look. "I just missed you, Tunia. Didn't you miss me?"_

"_It's been quiet around the house," she shrugged in answer._

_The almost twelve-year-old Lily let out a boisterous laugh. "So of course you missed me. Come on, Tunia!" She grabbed her sister's hand and pulled her into the house. "I have so much I have to show you. You'll never believe what happened in Potions right before…"_

**…_&…_**

"_Agh! Lily Evans! Get these damned owls out of here!" Petunia screamed. It wasn't enough that her younger sister had invited one of _them_ over for a few days stay during their summer holiday. It wasn't enough that the two insisted upon sun bathing at every opportune time, crack tasteless and incomprehensible jokes, and otherwise divert all attention to themselves. No, they also had to have those bloody animals swooping in and out at all hours of the day._

"_Petunia, they aren't going to hurt you," Lily laughed. She walked to the kitchen window where four healthy owls were currently perched watching the blond flail her arms about. "Just give them a treat or they'll snip at your fingertips while you untie the parchment."_

"_Snip at your fingertips? That is such a savage way of communicating! Have you not heard of telephones? The postal service?"_

"_This _is_ our postal service, Petunia. And they're sweet animals. Reliable, that's for sure."_

_Petunia rolled her eyes. "Well, please refrain from allowing them in the house! I have company due any time and the last thing I need is to explain you and your freakish ways."_

_Petunia turned up her heels and began to saunter out of the kitchen._

"_I'm not a freak, Petunia," Lily replied sadly, under her breath. "I'm just different."_

_Lily thought she saw her sister hesitate in the doorway, but it must have been her imagination. As her footsteps echoed down the hallway, she yelled back to Lily._

"_And keep you and your freak of a friend out of site!"_

**…_&…_**

_She sat in her mother's sitting room, alone. Petunia's father had called out, and so Mum left her oldest daughter to look through Lily's wedding pictures alone. Petunia hadn't shown for the wedding, claiming an unexplainable emergency had arisen for Vernon in which her presence had been requested. How was she to have said to no to her future in-laws? _

_The truth of the matter was she hadn't the courage to sit through and watch the beautiful ceremony. She hadn't the patience to sit and watch, once again, her baby sister, be spoon fed all the magic in the world. Her own wedding was only months away and she knew that it wouldn't, it _couldn't_, begin to stand against Lily and James Potter's wedding._

_The glorious couple everyone loved. The made-for-each-other couple everyone was happy for. The two lovebirds who danced when there wasn't music, laughed when nothing was funny, and smiled when they were simply sitting near each other. The couple who everyone forgot had only just graduated, who were still so young and whose relationship was still new. It was unquestionable, the love those two shared, the love they produced. _

_Yes, Petunia was certain the only thing she had missed by not going to Lily's wedding was a circus of lovesick puppies drooling over a cliché romance._

_Still, the older sibling's heart ached to reach out and look through the pictures. In reality, Petunia had spent the evening sitting in the window of Vernon's flat, looking out and remembering the pretend weddings the two girls had acted out as children. She had sat there and imagined how beautiful Lily looked in the white wedding dress, her hair pulled back and her eyes gleaming. She imagined how handsome her knight stood beside her, their mother crying, their father swallowing back the tears of happiness._

_Petunia had spent the night trying to hide the happiness she felt for Lily. Lily _was_ the princess and Petunia had her part in doing that. She had spoiled her baby sister from the moment she'd come home from the hospital. She'd dressed her up in pretty clothes, told her ghost stories and showed her how to play hopscotch. At one time, Petunia had been someone that Lily needed in her life._

_Petunia remembered those days as she picked up the first book of photos._

_She gasped, her hand covering her mouth and the tears stinging the corners of her eyes._

_Her sister was beautiful. She was everything Petunia had pictured and more. Her happiness emitted through the picture. Petunia couldn't help the smile that formed on her lips as she flipped through the Muggle pictures. The dancing, the cutting of the cake, the amusing antics of her now-husband's friends all told such a beautiful story._

_She finished the first book and picked up the second. It was filled with Wizard photos, the ones that moved, that were so similar to a miniature movie. Her tears swelled as she flipped through the pages. _

_The last photo she had time to see before she heard her mother coming back left an imprint in the depths of her mind. It was something Petunia would often remember and often have to push away; the guilt it produced too overwhelming._

_Lily, with a solemn expression, sat at the head table staring at the nearest guest table. Flowers and candles adorned the center while empty plates, champaign glasses and goblets littered the rest of the table. Two spots remained clean having not been used. The place cards were readable in the picture._

_Lily's face brightened slightly when her groom approached her. He glanced at the table before giving his new bride a kiss on the forehead._

**…_&…_**

"The part that sickens me the most, Petunia, is that she'd still forgive you. To this day, even after the way you've treated our son, she'd still forgive you. She's still find some love meant only for you and swear that you loved her back," James spat.

"I…do…" was all that Petunia was able to get out before the front door opened and the wide birth of the man known as Vernon Dursley entered his home.

"Petunia, I'm home!" His voice was jolly as he loosened his tie and set his briefcase on the floor. He'd had a good day at work and looked forward to his wife's fine cooking before an evening spent lazily reading the paper.

Petunia's eyes widened as they bored into James. If things had been sticky and uncomfortable between the sisters, and even the sisters and the husbands, it was nothing compared to how James and Vernon became around each other. Perhaps it had been good they had hardly spent any time together.

"Petunia?" Vernon came around the corner and stopped dead in his track. He dropped the day's mail to the floor, his face stricken white and his eyes ready to bulge from his head.

James couldn't help it, he laughed. "Evening, Vernon. Lovely home you've made for yourself. I daresay, though, it's rather _plain_."

"You." Vernon seethed, realization dawning but not quite being comprehensible. "You…you _freak_! Get out of my house!"

James chuckled, "Gladly." He tossed a small, rolled up scrap of paper towards Petunia before he moved away from the table. "You needn't worry of Harry's well-being again."

As James disapparated, he saw Petunia unroll the paper. The ring, the only thing aside from his own wedding ring that he still had, fell to the table. It had been a ring handed down in the Evans's family for generations; Lily had given it to James to wear around his neck for luck on his missions. Written on the paper was the number to reach Tiffany, if, Petunia ever decided to really become a part of Harry's life.

**…&…**

James apparated back to his flat and fell to the couch with a heavy sigh. He wasn't sure that he accomplished anything he'd set out to do by visiting Petunia, but in the very least it felt good to have let some of his anger out on her. Like Peter, she'd never fully understand the damage she'd caused. She may know, and she may feel the devastation and the guilt, but she'd never understand.

It was nearing dinnertime, James realized, when his stomach gurgled. He had yet to see Harry today and wanted to tell him that he'd be living with him from then on. Of course, Albus wouldn't approve, but no one was going to keep them apart any longer.

This of course meant that James needed to get that damn wand. He'd thought about it the day before when he and Harry had been in Diagon Ally but hadn't wanted to stop the fun with work.

Now was a good of time as any, he thought as he headed for the door. On his way out, he grabbed a light jacket and a cap, hoping no one would recognize him.

**…&…**

He strolled down the ally, taking everything in again, this time in a calm and reflective manner. He had so many memories just in this one place alone - good, bad, with many people and with just his friends or family. He remembered walking along the shops in awe as a child, his eyes glued to Quality Quidditch Supplies. Buying his books and supplies, eating ice cream with his friends, sneaking down to Knockturn Ally…

He found himself standing in front of Ollivander's. With a deep breath, James turned the knob and let himself in. The place was empty but he could hear Mr. Ollivander humming somewhere in the back.

"Excuse me? Mr. Ollivander? I need a wand replacement," James took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. There was no sense in holding back his identity to Mr. Ollivander; he'd know soon enough as it was.

"Oh! Hello, I didn't hear the bell ring on the door." Mr. Ollivander approached the front. He was carrying a tall pile of thin boxes and didn't get a good look at his customer yet. "You say you need a new wand?"

"Yes, sir," James nodded, biting his lower lip in anticipation.

"Ah, there we are," Mr. Ollivander set the pile of boxes down and looked up to James. "And do you recall what your previous wand was made…of…"

James offered a smile to the aging wizard. Shocked wouldn't be the word to describe Mr. Ollivander, James had a feeling not much did shock him. He stood in awe and wonderment, really, tilting his head ever so slightly to the left as he gazed at James.

"Is it really you?" He finally asked, his hands crossed and one finger lying on his chin.

James laughed, "It is, it's really me."

"Well…how'd you survive?"

"It's a long story, sir, I'm sure you could understand my need to hurry. I'd like to get back to my son before the day's end. I did survive, however, and lived the past fifteen years without any memory. So it seems that I've lost my wand."

"Well, by Merlin, just when you think you've seen it all," Mr. Ollivander shook his head. "It's good to have you back, James Potter. It's good to have you back."

James smiled, "Thank you, Mr. Ollivander."

"Now, shall we get started?" Mr. Ollivander turned towards mounds and mounds of boxes. His gaze trailed over many of them before he seemed to find what he was looking for. "Aha! Let's try this one. I have a feeling."

James cocked an eyebrow, but remained silent as Mr. Ollivander took the wand from its box and handed it to James. The moment the wand was in James's hand, it felt right. His hand felt at home around the stick. He didn't need to try it out; he already knew this one was his. He noticed the waiting Mr. Ollivander though, and flicked his wrist in that natural way Professor Flitwick had taught him.

Mr. Ollivander let out a happy gasp; the wondrous sparks that flew from the wand as James flicked were ornate and precise. They were mixed hues of reds and golds, greens and blues. They flew up and fell towards the ground like a waterfall of light, sparkling until they reached the floor.

"Well, I do believe we found the right one," Mr. Ollivander smiled.

James laughed, "And how many times, Mr. Ollivander, have you found the right wand on the first try?"

A spark in Mr. Ollivander's eyes glimmered, "Rarely, but I knew this one without a doubt. Mahogany, 10 and ¼, pliable."

James stared at him a moment, thinking. His original wand had been made of mahogany and it had been pliable, excellent for transfiguration. The size was off, however, but it sounded rather familiar.

Mr. Ollivander smiled, "No need to worry about payment. That wand struck me when it was made as something important, now I know why. You're wife's wand, if I remember correctly, was 10 and ¼. Willow and swishy, however. Good luck to you, James Potter."

Before James could grasp what Mr. Ollivander had said, he'd vanished to the back of the shop once again, humming his old tunes and working away. James examined his wand, admiring every aspect of it before turning and leaving the shop.

Fifteen years without magic made it that much more incredible.

He wondered what it meant, that his new wand was the same length as Lily's wand had been. Did it mean anything at all? Was it just a coincidence? It wasn't as though they shared the same core or were made from the same tree. They were only similar in length. But something had definitely felt right when he'd handled the wand.

His thoughts wandered to what became of his old wand. The last thing he could remember before blacking out was raising his wand to mutter the incantation of the ancient spell against Voldemort's Avada Kadava. Obviously, the spell had worked, here he was alive, but what had happened to the wand then?

Did it fly out of his hand from the power of the curses hitting one another? Did it break? Had it been buried in the rubble or found by someone, Aurors…Sirius?

Come to think of it, _what had happened to his house_? And all of his belongings?

James suddenly had the urge to go back to what was once his home.

**…&…**

The neighborhood was quite charming. The array of old, Victorian-style cottages was richly decorated with lavish green gardens. The village was obviously moderately well to do since the old stone walls were well taken care of.

James stopped on the edge of what he knew once was his street. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, drinking in the cool evening air as the sun set in the distance.

_One step at a time_ he told himself. He opened his eyes, fingering his wand in his pocket and began the humble walk down the street. Some of the homes looked familiar to him; some brought back memories of neighbors, of muggles and wizards. They had lived here a short time before they moved after finding out how much Voldemort was after them.

They chose Godric's Hollow as their hiding spot because it was home.

"Merlin," James breathed. The golden rays of the sun shined on his face, warming him slightly as he felt a chill up his spine. He stopped at the curb; the curb that once had been the edge of _his_ lawn.

A new home was built now, a modest two-story cottage similar to the one before it and the ones surrounding it. It looked newer, obviously, and didn't quite have the same dynamic that his stone home had.

He peered around the edge of the house towards the back. He didn't see anyone out and about. Figuring they were eating or reading the evening paper, James journeyed to the back garden, to the fields behind the village.

The view hadn't changed much. There were a few more homes in the distance, where the village had grown. The huge, swanky trees still stood high into the sky on the edges of the field. James had often thought the field was perfect for Quidditch playing.

He walked until he was in the middle of the field and kneeled down. Overcome with emotions, he closed his eyes and squeezed his fists together.

"_James, it's beautiful!" Lily exclaimed. Her eyes lit up as she quickly climbed from the taxi and ran up the front garden._

_James laughed at her, "You like it, then?"_

_She turned and grinned at him, "I think I do. It's so cozy looking. What's the inside look like? And the back? You said there's a field behind it?"_

"_Whoa, love, one thing at a time." James paid the taxi driver and joined his wife on the lawn. "It reminded me of Hogwarts a tad, only much smaller and a lot cozier."_

_Lily giggled, "Yes, I can see that. The garden is beautiful."_

"_Do you have much of a green thumb, malady?" James teased her. He tickled her sides making her squirm in his arms._

"_I hope you do," she winked at him and ran up to the front door. "And you're sure you don't mind living so close to muggles?"_

_James laughed. "No, I don't mind. I don't care, Lily, as long as I'm living with you, who lives next door. Voldemort could live there for all I care."_

"_James," Lily scolded. "Don't joke like that."_

"_But seeing your face right now? No news can make me sad. This is our home, Lily Evans," James opened the door and led here inside._

_She giggled once again. "Soon to be Lily Potter, you know."_

"_I do know, and am I glad." He pulled her into a passionate kiss._

"Lily," James looked to the slowly darkening sky. "It's not fair that I'm the one that survived. If one of us should have, it should have been you. I'm walking around, acting as if I know what I'm doing…but I don't. I don't know a damn thing."

He fell to the ground completely, never taking his eyes from the sky.

"I remember sitting outside at night with you, watching the sky. Hell, you'd watch the sky at any time of day. I remember soaring through the sky above you on my broom, you yelling at me to be careful, and me trying to show off. The sky was always so endless, never ending…"

James laid there for quite a while. He was unsure of how much time passed. He knew the sun had gone down and the stars had come out. They dotted the night sky with a feverish passion for him, once again telling him that the world was for his taking.

"Merlin, I miss you," the tears rolled down his cheeks one at a time. "You'd know what to do…"

The wind picked up, tossing his hair about. James felt a surge of emotion swell in his heart and he glanced to the night sky again. A stream of cascading light streaked across the sky, from one end to another, but somehow, never falling.

"I suppose I do know what to do, don't I?" He grinned at the moon.

James stood up and without a second glance, apparated to number 12.

**…&…**

The evening was wearing down and the four young witches and wizards of number 12 Grimmauld Place were sitting around the kitchen table working on their summer homework.

Harry was finding it hard to concentrate. He'd been up late the night before after the Order meeting had broke telling his friends of all the day's events. It took even longer to fall asleep after that; excitement keeping his mind moving far too much for sleep to befall him.

Rising early that morning gave way to nothing to do to keep him busy. Once Ron, Hermione and Ginny had awakened, they kept themselves busy with chores.

In the late afternoon, the four found themselves sitting beneath the oak tree where so much had changed only the morning before. Conversation turned to that, once again, imagining the future, what it would mean for the war and so on.

If anything, Harry couldn't have felt happier for having his friends. He had wonderful friends and a father.

By the time they helped clean up after dinner, Mrs. Weasley was adamant that they get to work on their schoolwork. School started in just a few short weeks.

And when they heard a visitor arrive, that's just what they were doing. Or supposed to be doing, rather; Harry was doodling on his parchment, Ginny was adding to his drawings while Hermione lectured a half-asleep Ron on the uses of ashwinder.

"Hey, Harry," James ran down the stares. "Hey, guys." He gave a smile to everyone, who still gave him shocked looks upon seeing him.

"Dad!" Harry's eyes lit up and he rose from his seat.

"Hello, Mr. Potter," Hermione smiled. "We were just studying."

James raised an eyebrow, "On holiday?"

The kids all laughed, minus Hermione who was about to explain the importance of continuous studying until Ron hit her in the arm.

"So, do you have a few minutes that we can talk, Harry?" James asked his son.

"Yeah, of course." Harry followed James out the back door to the oak tree.

"How's your day been?" James asked him, still admiring how his son looked, even today.

Harry shrugged, "Sort of boring, but that's the summer hols, right?"

James laughed. "I suppose. Not much to do around here, though, I guess. I had a pretty busy day."

"What'd you do?" Harry was sincerely curious.

"Well, I made a lot of visits, including one to your aunt's house, and I managed to get myself a new wand," James shrugged as though neither were a very big deal.

"You what? You visited Aunt Petunia?" Harry's eyes were wide and round.

James laughed again. "Harry, you don't have to go back there, never again if you don't want to. Petunia and I talked and I left her with a number to contact if she ever decides to put away her sibling rivalry and be your aunt."

Harry's expression softened as he gazed up at his dad. "Where will I stay then?"

"With me?" James answered back meekly.

There was a short silence until Harry broke out in a grin and began to nod. "Yeah, Dad, yeah, of course!"

James let out a sigh of relief with a chuckle. "Merlin, that was almost harder than yesterday. I wasn't sure, you know, how you'd feel."

"Why wouldn't I want to live with my dad?" Harry laughed back. "But…do you think Dumbledore will be alright with it?"

"Does it matter if he is?" James winked. "Look, we'll make a visit to him tomorrow, how about that? We'll invite him out to lunch or something to tell him our decision."

"What are you going to do when school starts again?" Harry wondered aloud.

James shrugged. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do at all, Harry, to be honest with you. I need to have a long talk with Albus, though. I need the Ministry to realize I'm alive again so I can…do things, get my money. Right now it's all yours."

Harry's eyes widened, "I didn't think about that! Do you need some?"

James laughed. "In due time, son. Don't worry. I have enough muggle money to get by right now. Anything I need I'm sure Albus or Erica will supply me with until we figure things out."

The two grew into a comfortable silence then, both watching the night sky. Once again, James found his tranquility in the massive blanket above. For so long, he hated the sky and what it did to his friend once a month. Still, above that, Lily had always found the endlessness to be captivating and inspiring.

James understood as he put an arm around his son's shoulder and they watched the shooting star screech across the sky. From one end to the other, but never quite falling.

* * *

……_**huggles n cookies……**_

…………_**missers…………**_


	14. Death Be Naught

**Chapter Fourteen – Death Be Naught**

_Stockholm Syndrome by Muse_

…..&…..

He switched the light off with a grin on his face. Having pulled all curtains closed, not a single source of light could find its way into his bedroom. He pulled his wand out, held it out in front of him and whispered, "_Lumos_."

At once, a glow from the tip of his wand emerged and James could see in front of him.

"Merlin, that's the greatest thing in the world," he laughed at himself. Of everything possibly weighing on his chest, here he was standing in his bedroom getting giddy over a simple light incantation.

The grin slowly faded but never quite diminished as he climbed into bed and put the light out from his wand. He placed the wand under his pillow, an old habit making it easy to reach if he were to need it during the night, but concealed from sight. The realization of his habit comforted him as he fell into sleep.

_Swirling colors, hues of reds and green, floated above him in the night sky. The moon shone bright enough to provide light to see, yet still made the dark mysterious and brooding. _

_A great desire of _need_ overcame him. There was something he needed to do, something he couldn't avoid, but he wasn't sure he was ready. The swirling colors raced faster as he began to panic. A drop of doubt tumbled into his thoughts. Was he strong enough to handle this? Could he face what he was about to walk into? Would he make the _right_ decision this time?_

_As quickly as the swirling hues had overtaken him they stopped, leaving him to admire an endless sea of possibilities. He had been here before, though he could not recognize it. Sensations of ease and comfort filled his veins as his heart beat rapidly and his pulse quickened. _

_He looked beyond his surroundings and envisioned a great beauty. It was a world he once knew, a world he held deep within his heart. This world was one in which survivors were of myths and tales, and happiness presided with echoing laughter. In this vision, rain meant rejuvenation; the sun was strong, and days were filled with hard work and play, instead of worry and fright._

_This was the world he fought for and believed in. The world he planned to spend the rest of his years enjoying with his family. Lily and Harry. Perhaps he and Lily would have had more children…_

_The image before him shifted to people he knew, to those he loved. Smiles and laughter showered the children and babies. The sun sparkled in the sky fueled by the contentment below it._

_Suddenly, a dark shadow moved swiftly behind him. He turned, but too late. The sun faded and the laughter subsided. Darkness enveloped him as he dizzyingly searched for something familiar. _

_Only - the shadow _was_ familiar. The shadow had been a part of him for the better half of his life. _

_The darkness filled with swirls of red and green once more. His mind exploded with sounds. There were voices of loved ones, laughter of the damned, and the one who spoke the loudest – the silent shadow._

_His mission was concrete - the shadow would learn to understand the light he blocked. _

. . . . . & . . . . .

Rolling over in his sleep, a comfortable smile formed on his face. It was a needed deep sleep: dreams full of pleasantry and hope. Though the dark reins of formidable anguish were long from disappearing, a new light had been resurrected. A light that promised a love worth fighting for and years of loneliness to be soon forgotten.

Surrounded by friends, and now family, he no longer felt isolated and secluded in his quest to end the darkness and fight for what was right. The weight was not yet lifted, but love encircled him.

There was a chance for a bright future and nothing could stop Harry from winning the final battle.

. . . . & . . . .

Concentration was how he lived his life. No second thoughts occurred to him in his clash for supremacy. There was no room for mistakes, no room for indecision. Life had given him choices and he chose. He chose to battle for greatness, to be more than his lineage had accomplished. The power had been at his fingertips, the knowledge at his doorstep. To ignore the possibility of becoming all that he could would have been to spit in his own blood. He walked with dignity, encompassing the fear he drove into the hearts of those who would never amount to all that he was and all that he will become.

No half-blood and his entourage of 'do-gooders' and peace fighters would stand in his way. He would prevail. Fighting a defensive game had proved for the 'light' side that faith and togetherness only went so far.

His red eyes glowed with laughter; he'd always have the upper hand. He _would_ win.

. . . . & . . . .

Harry's scar was something of wonder. Dumbledore believed it to be an infusion on his skin, a scar not only left from an incision, but also one mixed with voltaic magic. It was electrically filled with ancient magic, light and dark.

As a boy, the shape had once mesmerized him. A lightening bolt was hardly a normal shape to be left from whatever had sliced him. He'd thought it a sign once, that it meant he was destined for more than life under the stairs. He hadn't any idea what it truly meant or where it actually came from.

The pain it caused when Voldemort was near or the feeling it induced when he could feel him attempting to tap into him was nothing short of excruciating. Not only did the physical pain bother him, but the uneasy feeling it caused in his gut scared him.

He was used to the dark side of the scar. The connection it gave him with Voldemort was the only source of magic he'd felt from it. Then – then a different ache bred from it. A foreign ache that worried him solely because he didn't understand it. There hadn't been any pain, only confusion and concern.

And then his father had appeared.

He supposed the ancient magic secluded in the depths of the lightening bolt began to wake. The second half began to emerge - the side he'd never felt before. It was the side that had once saved him from Voldemort and that held his mother's love and protection.

But this was a different feeling that awoke him. It reminded him of the pain from the feeling it caused in his gut, but there was no pain. There was no ache, no feelings of confusion or concern. He just felt _something_.

Harry threw the covers off and sat up, squinting, thinking maybe the feeling was just from his sleep. He rubbed the scar; hoping pressure would chase away the alien sensation. Realizing it wasn't working, Harry grabbed his glasses and stretched his tired limbs. The feeling had to be from thinking so much. Maybe he just had a headache.

But something didn't feel right. Something wasn't as it was when he went to bed a few hours ago. Harry didn't want to react irrationally; he'd learned his mistake in jumping to conclusions only months ago. Still, something nagged at him.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Concentrating on blocking his thoughts, he realized he'd promised his dad that he'd take up practicing occlumency once again.

Harry wasn't sure how long he sat on his bed, concentrating with all the energy he had, but it had to have been a while. He felt exhausted and promised himself he'd practice more. It was then that Hedwig flew down from her cage and nipped at Harry.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, wondering what had gotten into her. She cocked her head slightly and gave him a reproachful look.

"Dad," Harry whispered out loud. Harry had someone he could contact even if it wasn't that big of a deal. He had someone who would help him figure out if it _did_ mean something, someone he could trust.

Harry quickly jotted down a note that his dad would understand incase Hedwig was intercepted. He rolled the parchment up, attached it to Hedwig and gave her a pat on the head before she flew out the window. He hadn't even needed to tell her where to take it.

"If Hedwig thinks something is going on, maybe it's worse than I think…"

. . . . . & . . . .

"He fights back."

"Master?" The quivering servant stepped to the side of his unhappy master.

"He fights me now. He will not let me in, as though he can keep me away," he hissed, a laugh evident in his words. "Something has changed."

"Changed, Master? Perhaps he has grown stronger in magic?" The servant regretted voicing the possibility the moment it left his mouth.

"Silence! It is not that kind of change." He stood, his long black robes flowing around him, almost paving the way as he paced in front of the fire. "There is something different around him. He holds a secret."

His servant swallowed, wishing he was not the one directly serving the Dark Lord. He could be so much more useful out in the field. He was capable of doing extraordinary things if only he'd be given the chance.

"You would like a chance to prove your worth to me," the Dark Lord's slanted red eyes glowed straight into the beady ones.

"Yes, Master. I would do anything you ask of me."

"Yes…you're a weak fool filled with fear. I believe it is your time to truly show me what you can do."

His servant bowed graciously, "My Lord, thank you."

"You will return to Hogwarts. Immediately. And you will find out what you can about Dumbledore and his plans before you find Harry Potter. And then, you will return to me with information."

"Yes, Master."

"And Wormtail," the Dark Lord hissed. "You will not disappoint me."

. . . . & . . . .

Harry was sitting in the kitchen, feeling much better when he heard the front door open. The strange feelings were gone and he almost felt silly for calling his father so impulsively.

"Harry?" James called his name once he was through the corridor. He walked into the kitchen and saw his son sitting at the table. "Harry! What's wrong?"

Harry, a carbon copy of his father with wild hair and haphazard clothing, rubbed his eyes before looking up at James.

"You said your scar was bothering you?" James worriedly looked at his son.

"Yeah," Harry started out meekly. "It felt strange. I've never felt something like that before. It's gone now, though."

"Describe the feeling, Harry." James scrunched his eyes in a thinking expression.

"Well, it didn't exactly hurt, not like when Voldemort is near or is trying to get into my thoughts, but it gave me the same feeling. In my gut, it felt the same."

James nodded, but remained quiet. He ran a hand through his hair and licked his lips before looking back at his son. "Has it bothered you since the morning I came?"

"No," Harry shook his head.

"Harry, I think we should see Dumbledore immediately. If I'm guessing right, your scar _is_ a connection with Voldemort, but it was also a connection to your mother. When I came back to you, your mother's love and protection ignited a response. And with Voldemort having your blood in him to resurrect himself…"

"Dad?"

"He's going to know that I'm back. We can't hide me from him forever and I'm only going to put you in more danger than you're already in," James admitted.

"Dad, he's already been trying to kill me for five years-"

"Harry, his strength is growing. He's gaining new followers. There isn't any time to waste, we have to decide upon a plan and sitting around waiting for him to strike isn't going to win the war. You need to be ready. Now."

"In the middle of the night?"

"What if he was able to get into your thoughts, Harry? What would he know now?"

Harry shook his head, "That you're back, but-"

"That two people have survived him, Harry. And we survived him on the same night. Both you and I have fought him and walked away. He won't waste any time in trying to take us down or separate us. Likewise, we can't waste any either. Do you understand? A different feeling means he got something different back, and Voldemort won't stand for it."

Harry stood up, nodding, "I understand, Dad. Shall we go now?"

"Yes. It isn't safe to floo; have you apparated with someone before?" James asked him.

"No…"

"Let's hope my magic is as strong as it was before," James winked at his son.

. . . . . & . . . . .

A strong wind brought ominous dark clouds. The moon fought the temptation to run and hide with the stars, now absent from the sky, but it was a losing battle. The streets were quiet, the houses dark - not a creature was stirring…except for one.

"There's a bad storm moving in, Dad," Harry motioned towards the sky as the two began walking out of town and down the path that would lead them to Hogwarts.

James looked up, seeming to sniff the air. "We should be able to beat it. It won't take us too long to get to Hogwarts. Are you all right after Apparating? No body parts got splinched?"

Harry smiled. "No, I'm fine, Dad."

"And your scar? Is it bothering you any, still?"

Harry sighed. "Not really. It almost feels prickly, but nothing like what it felt earlier. Strange, though, it's unlike him to give up so quickly."

"Ah, that's the point, Harry. He _doesn't_ give up. And that's why we need to get to Albus, the sooner, the better." James looked around their surroundings again as the two continued their journey. "It's a strange night, all right, strange night."

. . . . & . . . .

The rat stopped. That voice was familiar, though it had been years since he'd heard it. The wind suddenly turned bitter, making the August night chilly. The rat's ears perked at the human sounds just outside of the bushes.

_No. It can't be!_

No longer thinking, his heart began beating so quickly that he had begun shaking as a rat. Abruptly, he ran from under the bushes and transformed back to his human identity. Peter ran only a few paces, his eyes wide from shock and unexpected anticipation.

"James?" His voice was shaky and hesitant. The moment his mouth closed, he regretted even speaking.

Peter watched as the two men he feared, perhaps more than Voldemort, froze. A shiver ran down his spine as Harry turned towards him, a sneer on his face. It just wasn't possible…James was _dead._

Nothing could save Peter from the curdling emotions churning inside him as the man turned around. The clouds parted and the light allowed Peter to see the bitter and hateful expression; a look Peter had never witnessed on this face before.

Suddenly, he saw the forthcoming repercussions of his actions fifteen years ago when he gave Voldemort the location of James and his family.

. . . . & . . . .

Thunder rumbled in the distance as they stood facing one another. One man shrunk in the other's tall shadow. The only reminder that time still moved was the approaching storm and the distant sound of the Hogwarts' clock chiming three times.

James's vision was focused as he stared down at the…_rat_ in front of him. Peter's tired and frumpy outlines shone clear against the dark background. The green of the foliage was sharp and bright in contrast to the hazy buildings of the nearby town. The lightening, pure and white, cut the electric air like a knife while the purple hued clouds continued rolling in.

Maniacal laughter filled James's ears. The wind rustled leaves around him in a tornadic manner and he found his mind swirling with them. Blood red eyes glowed with amusement, green eyes showered him with admiration and love, he heard screams – fear engulfed him, outrage pulsated through his veins as his mouth opened to release his fury. Memories of four boys banding together fell over him. Laughter and promises filled his heart. They had gone through so much together, fought the same fight –

A new laugh filled James's senses, a barking laugh. Sirius had been the brother that James never had. Either of them would have gone to the ends of the earth for the other, risked everything, given everything. Maybe they had never truly appreciated the friendships that Remus and Peter had offered them, but by no means had they disregarded them. The four of them should have stuck together until the end – not _be_ the end.

There was nothing else in the world now, save the two of them. Even Harry no longer seemed to be standing nearby; all he saw was the petrified and pudgy face of someone he once called a friend.

"You actually have the courage to face me?" James spat, taking a step forward and causing Peter to step back.

"I…I…how…it's not really you…" Peter stumbled on his own words, his eyes still wide with fascination and fear. His heart had fallen to his gut, his breath shaky and uneven.

James laughed, livid at Peter's anxiousness. "No, maybe it's a dream, Peter. That recurring nightmare you have where I come back for revenge against you. Or maybe I'm Remus in disguise, here to torment you for what you've done. Perhaps I'm Sirius, back from the other side of the Veil, back to seek revenge for James, one of the people I swore to give my life for, my friend, my _brother_." His eyes narrowed and he smirked. "Or maybe it _is_ me, Peter. Maybe I didn't die and maybe it _is_ time for revenge."

Peter's face grew pale beneath the fading moonlight. The thunder rattled his nerves.

"James?" His voice was barely more than a whisper. He was living a nightmare; he felt like death was knocking on his door. Often over the years, at night when he'd be alone with his thoughts, he'd imagine a confrontation with James. Sometimes, in the dark, he'd shudder, feeling as though someone was watching him, waiting for him.

"Don't play innocent, Pettigrew! You acted the part well, but you know as well as I do -- you've been nothing short of diabolical for years."

"Di-dia-diabolical? James! You know me better than that!" Peter took another step back as he looked around for an escape, knowing that even in his rat form, there would be no escaping James Potter – ever. "It's all been a misunderstanding! I was tricked! I was used!"

"Tricked? _Used?_ You're right, Peter, _Lily and I_ used you, but that was after you'd already made your decision. You had already chosen where to stand and it wasn't with the people who cared about you, it wasn't with your family. You chose his side and you chose to walk the path that you have. _You chose to give us up._"

"I-I, no! I didn't! I didn't choose…anything! I was forced, James! You have to listen to me, you have to understand!"

"I don't have to do anything, Pettigrew!" James roared. "Nothing is stopping me from… from _killing_ you!"

James grabbed his wand and had it pointed at Peter so quickly that neither Peter nor Harry realized it until James took a step closer to Peter. Harry stepped back, unsure of what to do, of what to say - if he should do or say anything at all. It was his fight too, and it was his family that had been taken away from him because of Peter, but this went far deeper than treason.

"You wouldn't…k-k-kill me. They didn't because…because H-h-harry knew you wouldn't want that. Your son knows it, look at how you're scaring him as you threaten me." Peter tried to thwart James's attention, if only for a moment so he could retrieve his own wand.

"You. Leave. My. Son. Out of this," James stepped even closer. "My son, who lost the chance at having a family because of you, isn't scared because I threaten you. _You_ tremble from fear, the one thing you know the best. Isn't that right, Peter? You've been living your life in fear since we graduated Hogwarts. Your nights are filled with bitter loneliness - loneliness caused by your own selfishness."

"I-I, James, please!" Peter begged. He just needed a moment to gather his thoughts, to find his wand, and he'd be ready. He'd be ready to take on…to take on James Potter? Voldemort? Peter had always admired James for many reasons and one was his sharpness and quick thinking in high-pressure situations. He was right, Peter hadn't been living life in fear of his choices, he'd been living in fear of making those choices; he was living in fear of even living.

"They were right, you know," James offered. "I won't kill you, not yet. I'd never be the one to give you the escape you've always been searching for, that's what a friend would do. A friend would end your unhappiness, Peter, a friend would help you find pleasure. An enemy would make you suffer, make you feel the pain."

Peter swallowed.

A crash of thunder erupted as quickly as the lightening flashed. Sneering, James circled Peter, the tip of his wand merely inches away from his face. James suddenly felt whole. The shadow was in his reach and he wouldn't release it until the weight had been lifted. After all these years of not knowing who he was, he stood before his future. Voldemort did not scare him. Harry did not worry him. The future would come and he'd accept it; right now, he had a choice to make. He was about to decide between forgiveness and revenge, life and death, loyalty and betrayal - love and hate.

James stopped pacing. He cocked his head and looked Peter in the eye. He saw fear. But he also saw memories.

"Out of loyalty, I'll give you a chance. Let's start with you telling me, Peter, why you _think_ you chose the path you did."

Peter stared. A sense of relief filled his body. This was the James Potter he knew, he admired, the one that put life and loyalties ahead of all things. He wasn't going to die! James would give him a chance; he'd understand…things would be all right.

"Well…J-James, I…you have to b-believe me when I say I know t-that I was w-wrong," Peter stuttered, as he began his story. "It w-wasn't easy…it wasn't easy for me then. I was never like y-you or Sirius or Remus. You all were b-braver and s-s-smarter than me. The Dark Lord…he forced me, James, he forced me! W-where was I to turn? He was everywhere…he w-would have k-k-killed me."

James chuckled. "Where were you to turn? To your friends? To the Order? Not to him!"

Peter started. "H-he…he had me, James! I had no choice! I-I had nothing to live for…b-but, I couldn't – I didn't, I couldn't die, James! He would have killed me had I refused him! I-I was w-weak…" Peter lowered his head, as though he were showing shame for his lack of courage, his weakness.

"And so selling out to _Voldemort_" – Peter winced – "and betraying all you knew was better than dying? Giving up everything we stood for and forgetting all that we _were_ was better than fighting for a real life? A future?"

"I-I, James, you must understand," Peter's eyes widened, hoping to let James see inside him and understand. "I tried! I tried to be strong! I tried to see the light! I tried to remember…"

James spat at him. "You did no such thing, Peter! You were a Gryffindor. Do you know how torn up I was to realize that _you_ were the traitor? Do you know what if felt like to find out that a brother had thrown away what we were just for an easy out?" James laughed again, making Peter cringe. "_Was_ it an easy out, Peter? Was it all that you hoped it would be? Does he respect you? Does he believe in you? Does he help you when you have doubts in yourself? Do his other minions comfort you and treat you as an equal? Does it make you feel glory-bound to know your place in history? Are you reveling in the fame? Do you stand _proud_?"

Peter only stared back at James's dark eyes. Clouds covered the moon once again, the lightening and thunder now on top of them. It would rain any moment. But neither man made to move.

"What was it, Peter? What was it that made you think you had nothing? What made you give up?"

"I didn't give up! I moved on! I moved on to where I had a chance! You! You…you had it all. You had courage and strength and family. You had something to live for, to fight for. You had something to be proud of – I…I had nothing, James, nothing! I was nothing compared to you! I was nothing compared to any of you, I just…I followed and you allowed me…I had to – I had to find my own path." Peter choked on a silent sob he desperately tried to hide.

"Your own path? Then be damned, _Pettigrew_! I gave you my _friendship_. I gave you a brother's _love_ and treated you as my own blood. Maybe I wasn't everything you wanted me to be for you, Peter, but damn it all to hell, I was _there_! I would have never betrayed you! I would have given my life for you, if I needed to! I would have done all I could for you!"

James's wand was flying in front of Peter's face as he yelled. James began pacing around him again. Peter's eyes followed him, never leaving James's face.

"You never answered, Pettigrew. Was it worth it? Spying for him, following him, giving your own flesh for him – was it worth it?" James asked, as Peter stood silent and still.

_Forgiveness and revenge, forgiveness and revenge. Death is a choice between forgiveness and revenge. Weaknesses can't be choices. Live for what you love. Forgiveness and revenge, forgiveness and revenge…_

"I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!" James screamed. "Don't lie to me now! Not after all we've _been through_ together."

Peter, if possible, paled even more. Harry stepped back as fat drops of rain began to fall in the savage wind.

"Pull your wand out and prove to me that you're a wizard!" James demanded. "You say you didn't have the _courage_ to stand beside me and remain my friend, then pull out your damn wand and duel with me, Pettigrew! Show me what being on _his_ side has done for you!"

"J-James-" Peter stammered as he slowly reached for his wand. He looked from James to Harry and back again, unsure of what James wanted. He was supposed to understand, he was supposed to _forgive_ him – not…duel with him.

"PULL OUT YOUR WAND!"

Harry backed off, now afraid. His father was becoming uncontrollable. What if – he couldn't lose his father, not after just getting him back. Harry grabbed his own wand and had it ready, just in case.

Peter finally pulled his own wand from his pocket. With a trembling hand, he pointed it towards James who only laughed.

"What's wrong, Pete? You can pass on private information for a year, you can keep secrets from your friends, hell, you can even tell a mass murderer where my family and I are, but you don't even have the courage to duel with me?"

Their eyes met. A battle had already begun as beady eyes were challenged by hazel. James took a step back and bowed. As he raised his head, a maniacal smile flashed from his face.

"This is where our future is decided, Peter," James calmly expressed.

With tears of fear mixing with the rain falling down his cheeks, Peter hesitated no more. It had come down to this and he knew what he had to do; the Dark Lord would not be happy to know that James Potter was alive after all.

"_CRUCI-"_

"_Stupefy!" _A red beam of light erupted from Harry's wand before Peter could finish the curse directed at James.

"Harry! Stay out of this!" James yelled, not looking at him. He focused back on Peter, lying on the ground. "_Rennervate_! Stand and fight, you coward!"

"_C-crucio_!" Peter wailed, stumbling as he rose clumsily to his feet.

James shook his head and laughed. "_Everte Statum_!" Peter flew back a few yards. "You have to _mean_ it, Pete!"

"You…you won't…I won't let you-" Peter stumbled on his own words trying to think of a spell to cast. "_Vomplara!_"

Flashes of light were racing back and forth between the two as Harry watched on. He cringed as James was hit with a blinding blue light and lost his balance.

"Dad!" Harry, burning with rage and fear, ran for his father as he pointed his wand at Peter. "_Crucio_!"

"Harry! Get back!" James spat, throwing up a shield charm, deflecting the curse Peter had thrown before being hit by Harry's.

Peter fell back from the force of Harry's Cruciatus curse, but the spell wasn't very strong and only lasted a moment. As quickly as he could, Peter threw another curse at James.

"Come on, Pettigrew! You work for the strongest wizard of all time! Can't you do better than this?" James yelled as he dodged the spell.

Peter growled, again throwing the Cruciatus. This time, he had a little more force and James cringed from the pain.

"NO!" Harry screamed, pointing his wand at Peter. He threw a stinging hex just as lightening struck a nearby tree.

Breathing heavily, James slowly climbed to his feet, looking at his son.

"I can't lose you again!" Harry cried, still pointing his wand at Peter. "I won't."

"Harry, let me finish this," James raised his wand.

Harry hesitated. He closed his eyes, for less than a second he took a deep breath before turning to his father. James was one step ahead. He grabbed Harry's wand, pointed his own at Peter and narrowed his eyes in one swift motion.

"For the blood. _Crucio!"_

Peter fell back to the ground, withering in pain as faint pops could be heard over the roaring storm.

Harry recognized some from the Order, the others he presumed to be from the Ministry. Finally, Albus Dumbledore appeared himself.

"James! Stop!"

Ignoring Remus's command, James shook his head and laughed. "Is there a difference? Is there a difference in me casting it on you rather than you casting it on me? Or how about all those times Harry's had it cast on him? Huh, Pettigrew? Does it hurt? Do you suffer? Can you feel a hint of what I've felt for so many years?"

"Prongs!" Remus grabbed at James's wand as the Cruatius curse weakened. Peter howled with pain, shivering from the cold rain. He laughed as he threw both his wand and Harry's to the ground. "Forgiveness or revenge, Remus? Does Peter deserve either of those? He doesn't deserve my spit."

Two Aurors put Peter in a binding spell. The fire in James's eyes still burned intensely. He wiped the back of his hand across his cheek, smearing the blood more than wiping it off. As he began to walk towards Peter, Remus reached out to hold him back, but Dumbledore stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder.

James held out his hand, showing Peter the blood. "Do you see this? Do you understand?"

Unable to speak or move, Peter's eyes darted back and forth between James's eyes and his bloodied hand.

"We weren't braver than you. We weren't smarter than you. We were never any better than you, _Wormtail_. We just never gave up."

Harry looked between the three remaining Marauders with empathy and sorrow. Where there had once been comradeship and love now stood a poisonous hatred.

"This is the beginning of the end, _for the last time_. The last time…"

Suddenly, the storm seemed to lighten slightly, the rain slowed, the wind died down and the lightening and thunder became more distant. Harry's ears erupted with noise as wizards began shouting this and that in every direction. Some focused on Peter, some on the very much alive James Potter, and still others seemed to be surveying the area.

Remus picked up the wands James had dropped and handed them back to their owners. His own heart was pounding as he stood between what was left of his past. The moment he looked into James's eyes, he knew what was to come. He knew what he had to do for James and for Harry, right or wrong in the eyes of Dumbledore or the Ministry.

Without any indication that the fight was not over, Remus raised his wand at the same time James did. Rather than point at Peter, as both Harry and Dumbledore expected, they pointed at the two Aurors holding Peter.

"_Everte Statum_!" They yelled and the Aurors went flying back, momentarily freeing Peter.

As others began to rush in to capture Peter and apprehend Remus and James, James glared at Peter one last time.

"Go. Tell him. Live in fear."

Harry heard the familiar popping noise and Peter was suddenly gone.

He knew, in a few moments, his scar would begin hurting once more.

…..&…..

The storm had diminished to a dreary drizzle; a mist that didn't seem like it would end anytime soon. Inside the headmaster's office sat a rather firm looking Dumbledore. He sat patiently at his desk while Erica and Madam Pomfrey dried off and checked over James and Harry. Remus sat along side James, wrapped in a blanket himself, refusing to meet the Headmaster's gaze.

Tonks and Shacklebolt stood near the door while Elphias watched out the window. No one spoke a word. The room filled with a thick tension, the only sound breathing and rustling of fabric as people shifted uncomfortably.

Tonks opened the door and let Professor McGonagall in, face stern. She stood next to the Headmaster.

"Scrimgeour will be here any moment now," she informed them.

"Who's that?" Harry asked, doing his best at keeping his mind blank while he awaited Voldemort's next attempt at connecting to him.

Erica sighed. "The new Minster of Magic, Harry. I thought you were paying attention at the meeting the other night. Fudge was fired a couple days ago and Rufus Scrimgeour has succeeded him."

"Fat lot of good he'll do," James muttered.

"James, I dare say that before you begin speaking of such things, you explain to us what just happened out there," Dumbledore finally spoke.

"What it looks like, Albus," James squared his eyes. "Harry and I were on our way to speak with you when we ran into Peter."

"Why did you let him escape?" Tonks asked, glaring at Remus specifically.

James glanced at Remus, then Harry before answering. "His place is with them. He's no use to us even if you arrest him. What good will that do? Rotting in Azkaban is too good for a rat like him. He'll get his own, out there amongst his own."

"You do realize, James, that Voldemort is aware by now, that you are in fact, alive?" Dumbledore asked.

James nodded. "Yes." Biting his lower lip, he looked at his son, "We'll be ready, won't we Harry? You'll be ready?"

Harry had to have faith in his father. He understood now, how his mother could easily love James with the same vivaciousness with which she had once loathed him. There was something in his eyes that didn't change no matter his mood or situation. It seemed to scream, "Challenge me! I dare you!" It was filled with confidence and assuredness. James was the type to seek out challenges and hardships and fight to overcome them; it was just what he did. Harry had the saving people thing and the finding trouble thing – he inherited them from his father.

Harry nodded. "Of course we will."

Dumbledore uncharacteristically heaved a sigh. "Harry, there is still much you need to learn."

"Then teach him, Albus. Lily and I entrusted you to make the right choices, hell, all of us do that on a daily basis. You took it upon yourself to take the Wizarding world's future in your hands when you decided to make the decisions for Harry. Why is it that he's sixteen and doesn't know half of what he needs to know to defeat Voldemort yet?"

"Mr. Potter, you can not expect to just jump in and know all the right answers after being gone for fifteen years," Professor McGonagall spoke.

"But it's right for me to assume that Dumbledore _does_ know all the right answers?"

"James, I had to be sure that Harry was ready," Dumbledore explained.

"I'm ready!" Harry jumped from his chair. "You waited until I was fifteen and after my godfather was dead to tell me about the prophecy! You can't wait any longer to tell me what 'information' I need to know-"

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but aren't we straying from the topic?" Elphias interrupted. "I don't mean any disrespect to what you're arguing about, but Scrimgeour will be here any minute and he's going to want explanations."

"How did everyone know where to apparate to?" Harry suddenly asked.

"The ministry received notification of underage magical use from you, Harry. When it was realized that it was you, I, of course, was notified immediately. You will find that Minister Scrimgeour will have taken quite an interest and liking to you, if I may warn you."

"If you were notified, I can understand the Order members, but why all the other Aurors from the Ministry?" James asked.

Remus looked at James. "Igor Karkaroff's body was found up north this evening, the Dark Mark overhead. Ollivander has been missing since after sunset. After everything else that has been happening, James, the Ministry is taking no chances. They way they see it, Harry is the Wizarding World's only chance at getting through the second war."

"Well, he is our only chance," James couldn't help but chuckle. "I always did dislike politics. So Scrimgeour wants Harry for the 'good fight', does he?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm afraid, that just like Fudge, he is not too fond of me."

"James, you do realize that the Ministry is going to want to take you back for questioning?" Tonks attempted at steering them back to the correct topic once again. "You're a hero as much as your son is; it'll be in all the papers tomorrow that you're alive. The Ministry is going to want explanations."

"They're going to want to know what spells you and Lily were studying and used," Remus added. "They're going to want to use you as a political platform as much as they want to use Harry. Not to mention the repercussions of Voldemort now knowing that you're alive…"

James rolled his eyes, "My big fat ego got in the way again?"

"James Potter!" Erica yelled, standing over James. "This is no time for making jokes! You just got your memory and your life back and you could have been killed! In front of Harry, no less! And for what? Revenge? Revenge you ended up not wanting to take anyway? Harry could have been hurt or killed!"

"Hey, hold on there!" James rose to his feet to stand taller than Erica. "I didn't die and I don't plan on dying anytime soon. I defied death once; I won't die until I'm ready. As for the Ministry, I can handle my own with them. I did it all my life!"

"James, these are different times," Erica argued. "And your son is no longer a baby!"

"Exactly, he can speak freely for himself, something that doesn't seem like too many people have let him do," James retorted, aggravated. "Look, here it is: I'm back. I'm alive and I now have my memory. As they say in the Muggle world, the shit has hit the fan. We're in the middle of another war – a war that never ended to begin with. From the moment that I was able to, I've been actively fighting against Voldemort and I don't intend to stop until either I _am_ dead or he is. Voldemort has it out for my son and I'll be damned if Harry won't succeed in stopping him. What happened tonight was personal. It was between Peter and myself, but it involved Harry and it involved Remus and neither one of them will be considered guilty of _anything_. It had to come out eventually that I am alive; I was never going to hide under a rock anyway. Harry and I have discussed this, all of this. I am his father and whether any of you like it or not, if anyone aside from him is going to be making his decisions, it will be _me_."

Before anyone could respond, Tonks opened the door to let in Mad-Eye Moody. Harry's heart fell to his stomach from the look on Mad-Eye's face.

"Alastor-" Dumbledore started.

"Scrimgeour has arrived, along with Fudge at his side. They're on their way up. Before they get here I think you all should know that Amelia Bones has been found dead - looked like she gave quite a fight."

The room fell silent with horrified and defeated looks adorning everyone's faces. Tonks let out a sob, quickly rubbing at her eyes.

"One more thing," Mad-Eye continued. "It's been confirmed, the dementors have left Azkaban."

"Professor Dumbledore," a booming voice came from the stairs. "I demand an explanation for this situation right now."

Dumbledore slowly rose from his seat and nodded to the man. "Minister Scrimgeour, Mr. Fudge, please do come in."

"Well…I'll be…" Scrimgeour walked up to James Potter. "It's true then, no Polyjuice potion…"

James winked. "Rufus Scrimgeour, if I didn't know any better, I'd warn you that the way you're suspicious of everything, you're going to end up just like Mad-Eye over there someday. Less battle wounds, I suppose, though."

Scrimgeour lips fell to a straight line. "It is, indeed, James Potter."

James gave a cheeky grin. "The one and only, sir. It's my understanding that congratulations are in order. You made Head of the Auror office and are now our esteemed Minister of Magic?"

"It's a shame you went missing all these years we thought you dead," Scrimgeour replied. "None the less, I'll accept your congratulations so we can move on to the issue at hand."

"I do believe that issue is me, your Highness," James bowed his head as Remus and Erica both swat at him.

"I do believe you are right," Scrimgeour sighed. "Without further delay, you'll come to the Ministry for a complete interview and investigation, is that understood? And Harry Potter?" Scrimgeour turned around to face Harry.

James pushed his way over to his son, "You'll not be taking me or my son anywhere tonight. You have no need for Harry and I can answer all of your questions here."

"On the contrary, Mr. Potter, it's been recorded that not only has Mr. Harry Potter preformed underage magic, he also preformed one of the Unforgivables."

"In self defense," James explained, not thrown off by Scrimgeour's stern and trained face. "If you'll let me explain-"

"Professor Dumbledore, I'm sure that by now you have word of the rest of this evening's events. I do not have time to sit here and play games. Both Potters will accompany me back to the Ministry. I'm sure that James will find he can rest easy if he follows simple procedure and Harry will find his charges dropped." Scrimgeour did not wait for a reply. He turned around and faced his two Aurors already in the room. "Shacklebolt, I'll not ask why you are here when you have an assignment. You and Tonks will see that the Potters arrive safely and promptly."

With that, Scrimgeour and Fudge swept out of Dumbledore's office and down the winding staircase.

James, his face reddening from anger, glared at Dumbledore. "Well?"

Dumbledore nodded his head. "You will do as you were told, James. If you follow procedure, you should be home by breakfast. And in home, I do mean back at Grimmauld Place. We will notify the Weasleys so they will not worry about Harry and be expecting both of you for breakfast."

"You did say, James, that you could handle the Ministry," Erica reminded him. "Harry, I'll be by tomorrow so we can chat."

James sighed. "Very well. Stopping by the Ministry was on my list of things to do anyway, may as well get it over with. Come on, Harry."

As Harry began to follow James and the Aurors out of Dumbledore's office, Remus stood and looked at James. James stopped and gave his old friend a small smile.

"I know, Moony. Thanks, mate," James answered Remus's unsaid comment.

Tonks and Shacklebolt led James and Harry down the staircase.

As they walked, Harry looked at his father. "Dad?"

James seemed to be in a different world of thought, but snapped out of it hearing Harry's voice. "Yeah?"

"Do you know Scrimgeour?"

James shrugged. "He was an Auror back in my day. As much grief as I give him, he did make a damn fine Auror. It's a shame that politics get in the way, Harry. Whatever he says to you, just remember to stick to what you believe."

Harry nodded, unafraid at what was coming. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I think…I think that Mum would be proud of you."

**. . . . . . . . . & . . . . . . . .**

**Whew. I realize that the last update for this was in September of 2005 and I can't apologize enough for the excessive delay. Life happens, as I'm sure you all know, and I appreciate your patience and understanding. I'd also like to thank all of you who have hounded me with reviews, emails and instant messages to update- you kept me motivated to get back to writing this.**

**Personally, this was a hard chapter to write. I don't feel I'm good at action and that held me back and gave me writer's block for a long time. I do hope, however, that you enjoyed the chapter. **

**8.18.08 - I've just finished going through these 14 chapters and doing a little editing. It was a good refresher for me and a good reminder that I'm on the right track with my future plans for this story. It is not abandoned. It's not ending any time soon, either. The next chapter is currently in the hands of my beta and the following chapter is being worked on. I have plans and I'm hoping that I'm finding my groove again to be able to update more regularly. My apologies for this long wait and my thanks to anyone who has come this far in reading and/or stayed with me. Don't give up on me! **

**You guys are the best, thank you for reading! Huggles n cookies to everyone!**

**-missers**


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